A Seraph's Sacrifice
by XaraYunn
Summary: Dear Tenma, who was loved by neither a caring mother nor a watchful father, now someone is willing to want you. Will you be the sweetest angel and give your freedom? Even if it's forever? KyoTen Fanfic. A/N: Thanks to the people who informed me of the "little" formatting problem hehe - -' I'm so fail, putting up the wrong thing uvu -,- Thanks and Enjoy!
1. Abduction

DISCLAMER: if I was a genius I would've made Inazuma Eleven/Go. But nope, I'm just a regular person. Enjoy this noob fanfic made by Zilenor's "omake".

KYOTEN CRAPTER 1 : Abduction

It was another quiet night as Arion walked back home. He just finished a long day's worth of practice, so he was eager to get back home and have some rest, maybe watch a little TV and play with Spotter.

Shouting was heard in the distance, alerting the midfielder. He suddenly remembered that there were recent happenings on the news about student abductions being done by what the police thought to be a gang of juvenile delinquents. Fear made him shake a little, and he walked a bit faster while looking for a possible shortcut.

Another scream. It was nearer, its presence foreboding. He looks left, then right, and the corner of his eye catches a small alley shrouded in the darkness. Hurriedly he scampers into the shadows, footsteps crunching on the rough gravel that seemed unused by anyone at all. He knew he was almost at Miss Sylvia's place, almost away from the eeriness of the night.

Just then an ear-splitting howl rips through the cicada's song, making him stop dead in his tracks. His ears pick up the sound of scuffling rebounding off the concrete, his vision grabbing a glimpse of a formless figure dancing on the wall, and before he knows it he breaks into a run as fast as his quick legs could carry him.

He was swift, but they were swifter. A hard blow to the back and he's sent on his knees, skin scraped on the unevenness of the ground. A cry cuts through his lips, immediately silenced by the blade resting on his throat.

Bones almost shatter, body starting to ache from the impact of being shoved on the wall. The fear only worsens, gripping his limbs like gnarled vines penetrating his flesh and rendering movement useless as his eyes lock onto the pools of a color brighter than the sky.

And the snarl on the other's face almost swallows his mind whole, terror clouding his mind when the pointed canines fit together like puzzle pieces.

The smile grows wider, and he starts to laugh, knife pressing deeper into Arion's clammy neck. No sound escapes the soccer player, breaths ragged and unstable under the pressure of cold metal.

"What's dinner doing here late at night?" The deep voice drawls, tongue flitting out to lick hungry lips.

The victim doesn't answer, silently praying that the police might pass by. At the lack of a response the assailant merely laughs, warm breath tickling the sensitive junction where his neck and shoulder met, exposed by the v-neck of his quite huge shirt.

"Well it's a shame to pass up on a meal—" he moves in a little closer, lowering the weapon and nudging the boy's head higher to gain better access to the spot where the pulse was erratic, "—especially when my catch is something I enjoy in particular," he says with a ravenous look as he opens his mouth wide to take a bite.

But the brunette doesn't feel the teeth sink in, because in one fluid motion his predator is pushed aside. Anger welled up in cyan eyes, searching for the source of interruption, but it snuck up behind and positioned a fatal dagger on his own neck.

"Do that again and you won't live to see the light of day."

Commanding and harsh was the only way for the still paralyzed fourteen year old to describe his savior's tone. He squints into pitch black with heavy vision, but he could only see blurred figures in front of him.

"Tsk, fine, have it your way."

At those words the knife is pulled away, freeing the other. In fear he could only watch, the adrenaline slowly fading as his ex-captor vanished. He broke out of his trance and he wanted to run, but the energy was easily dissipating and his knees felt weak, his body buckling under him.

The last thing he saw as his eyelids began to shut was the third party coming closer, bending in front of him and staring into the gray abyss with eyes a shade of gold he'd never forget.

A/N: sooooo, how was it? hehehhheeh i'm such a loser wahah


	2. Waking Up In Wonderland

A/N: THANKS SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR REVIEWWWSSS!1 It makes me so happy to know that people appreciate this fanfic :) (even if it's literally been blooped and bleeped HAHAHA)

I couldn't wait to post it... So here you go! enjoy, and don't forget to Rate and Review if it isn't too much trouble! Thanks :))

Disclaimer: I don't own Inazuma Eleven/ Inazuma Eleven Go. Really, do i have to say it every time ? :PP

KYOTEN CRAPTER 2: Waking Up In Wonderland

The feeling of the cold air was like a slap on the skin, jolting him awake. On instinct he moves a hand to his face to block out the light, but something immediately grips it with the precision of a mantis yet with the gentleness of a breeze.

"Don't move," it commanded in a tone just above a whisper. "Your body still needs rest."

Asking what was happening sounded like a great idea, but fatigue and pain shot through his whole system, forcing him to lower his hand as instructed and resume his rest.

When the other deemed that the boy was fast asleep, he lets out a small sigh. Walking over to the desk, he pulls out an old quill and a nearly unused inkwell, and hastily scrawls down a message.

'I finally have him. The boy is alive, but in a deep slumber. He needs rest. I shall take him to you when he is ready.'

With that he rolls it into a scroll, stamping it with a waxed seal and tying it on a bird of ebony before sending it off.

Again his gaze turns to the sleeping form stretched out on the velvet expanse of the furniture. It seemed so weak, so helpless, so he wondered what they wanted with him.

"They're wasting their time," he chuckled lightly to himself, "after all, he'll be mine soon."

This time it was the rustling of cloth that roused him from dormancy.

"Where am I…?"

As he croaks out the few words he throws the covers aside, letting his vision clear a bit. When it does, he finds himself face to face with unknown surroundings that look like they've come from the illustrations of his history book. Pearl and onyx covered nearly every inch of the high pillars, creating patterns like that of an antique chessboard and toned down by the dismal lighting of the lavender-scented candles and the serpentine chandelier fashioned purely of gold and crystals swinging from above. He lay in a sea of red velvet, almost making him sink in the fineness of its quality and in the silk of the embroidered cushions as he tried to search for anything familiar in the midst of everything. Shivering, he noticed that his jersey wasn't on anymore, knees wrapped in bandages.

And in a far corner, he spots a pale persona, clad in an austere, long-sleeved button up rolled up to the elbows with a coat darker than the hues of midnight draped on his shoulders. His pants made of the same fabric were concealed halfway by the tall boots that the Raimon student never saw a male wear before. What's more was that the chains dangling from the belt loops and the metallic embellishments of his clothing exuded reflections of moonlight with every graceful movement. The object of the captive's attention spun around, revealing irises of the most feral gold he'd ever seen.

"You're awake."

The same husky voice doesn't sound the least bit surprised to the auburn-haired boy.

"Huh, what the—!"

The stranger is suddenly at the bedside, and the coat has somehow found a way off his shoulders to reveal more of the pallid chest under the off white garment. In reflex Arion flinches away, but the other growls in dismay and pins his wrists down, one knee resting on the bed for support as he hovers above the weakened boy.

"You're not going anywhere," he warns without breaking off eye contact, which makes the gravity of his intonation even more serious.

However the other refuses to stop struggling, leaving him no choice but to clamber onto the bed to use his own body to completely immobilize the younger one. The colorless fingers were freezing to the touch, yet the proximity of their bodies made Arion heat up, beads of sweat breaking on his forehead because of the challenge of overthrowing the guy who had little difficulty restraining him. He twisted and pried, enduring burns every now and then due to the friction between the parts until he ceased to rebel, a familiar type of pain washing through him in the same areas from before and making him wince loudly.

"I have no interest in harming you whatsoever as of now, Arion Sherwind."

The dominant one spoke, indigo tresses falling around his face as he addressed his prisoner, taking in the image of eyes that were snapped shut, the rise and fall of his tanned chest that followed a rhythm and his mouth slightly parted to catch his breath.

"I am merely attempting to restore your health," he continues, gesturing to the water-filled basin crafted with intricate abstract patterns on the rims that matched the room's theme.

Peeking a little, he sees that the container indeed held something that looked quite like water, and a clean cloth was placed next to it. He hesitates, opting to face his side rather than set his eyes on the enigmatic character whom he was sure he wouldn't take his eyes off of the moment he got a good look at the face. After a moment he relaxes visibly, and the pallid boy assumes that Aaron granted him permission to do as he intended.

"Lie on your stomach," he orders, and the midfielder obeys, slightly embarrassed at the fact that he was topless in front of a stranger. Speaking of which, how did he get topless in the first place?

It didn't take long for him to put two and two together as the nameless creature proceeds to dampening the cloth and pressing it on the areas with abrasions. The brunette hisses some, trying to stifle the sting of the touch. When all the marks were cleaned, he reaches for the small case on the bedside, twisting off the circular wooden lid to apply the salve on the wounds.

Again, he twitches when the alien sensation of the minty concoction on painful parts and the surprisingly soft finger pads running across his skin mingles on his epidermis. The digits sweep daintily, tidily, and goosebumps form on the skin at how creepy yet relaxing the contact feels. What once was searing pain, however, seemed distant, numb every time the appendages travelled lengthwise and dipped in the groove of his back. And he almost felt foolish and ashamed when he immediately longed for the lulling caress the second it was gone.

"Stay here. You might need some more rest."

The silence is broken once more as the human (or so he thought) who was playing dress-up in his opinion gets up and starts walking to the door.

But Arion didn't want him to go. At least not yet, even if he didn't know why.

"Wait!"

Orbs of gold look back with a stoic glare to regard the injured boy.

"What is your name?"

The boy says nothing, instead he narrows his eyes, making no sound but conveying an emotion that clearly stated not to get into his business. With that unspoken agreement he turns away, the heels of his boots clicking faintly on the stone flooring.

He just remains motionless, wondering if he should just follow instructions or escape while the predator was away. So despite the pain in his torso he rolls out of bed, shuffling over to the oaken doors where his companion disappeared into prior. He realizes that it might be locked, and his hopes drop a little, but to his surprise the doors swing open with a rusty squeak. However, what came next shocked him to the core and rendered him utterly speechless and terrified, sucking out his soul and leaving him wide-eyed and petrified.

A sudden blast of wind almost blows him away, and in front of him are gray skies threatening to blacken into cold ashes. Thunder growls in the distance, streaks of light bringing life to the skies like they were strobe lights. He thanks the heavens for letting him keep his footing, because if it weren't for that, he would've lost his balance and vanished into the murky depths hundreds of meters away from ground level. Right and left the slick bricks showed no signs of being possible footholds to climb down, and ahead all he could see were the silhouettes of the jungle maze.

The cage was left open, but there was no place to run.

(~*~)

Meanwhile, the mysterious figure is making its way through the dark hallways of another residence. The walls are dark and gloomy, holding portraits of a forgotten family. Memories encased in glass, he thought, frozen against time despite the fact that oils will fade inevitably.

On he goes, until he reaches a right turn spilling with dim light, and he follows. When he reaches the threshold of the master's chamber, he could hear faint music due to the door that was left slightly ajar. And he enters to see another person who seemed undisturbed by the supposed interruption.

He listens to the music that the harp seemed to sigh from its stiff strings, the melody that held him in a calm embrace. It was a tune he knew from childhood, the lullaby of his mother and the song of an angel, and it continued to play softer and softer until the musician finished.

"I've been expecting you, Victor."

He flinches slightly. He hasn't heard that name—his own name—in quite a while, and it felt strange on the ears and even stranger in the mind knowing that it sounded so effortless on another's tongue.

"It has been a while, don't you think?"

The one across the room asks, and with a wistful smile, he answers back.

"Indeed it has, Vladimir."

A smile, and arms are held out.

"Welcome home, brother."

A/N: OMG HAHAH I NEED A LIFE


	3. Maybe It's Not Wonderland After All

KYOTEN CRAP 3

OMG HAHAHAH WARNING GENDERBEND!

thanks to all those who've reviewed and read and stuff! i super appreciate it :))) hope that ya'll like it ! :) go KYOUTEN!

"I hear that you've found what you're looking for."

Victor smiles as his brother pours some tea in the precious china.

"Well, news does have wings after all," he replies as he picks up his cup to take a sip of the chamomile infusion.

It was Vladimir's turn to grin as he pops a blueberry tart in his mouth. Their beams made them look so alike, that one could mistake them for twins.

"But with that aside," the older one's face turns serious, "are you really sure about what you're planning?"

"Yes."

Vladimir stops tasting the different snacks on the table to look at him eye to eye. With a sigh, he leans back in his chair, the look on his face asking his brother for an explanation.

"I know that I accepted the mission from my superior. But I have my own agenda and reasons."

"Why?"

The younger one knew what he wanted, but somehow the words to say it wouldn't form. His mind wanders off, remembering the day his life changed forever.

_A crash. And he falls._

_"Vladimir! Vladimir!"_

_He jerks his brother in a panic, searching the body for signs of injury. Eyelids are shut, his breathing is faint, and the small one is hoping against hope that maybe his brother was just sleeping._

_"I— I can't…!"_

_He hears tiny whispers mixed with groans of pain._

_"Brother!"_

_Victor's haunted eyes could see vividly the pain on the pale face. His eyebrows were knit, body convulsing from the stress and pain going through him._

_"Victor—I can't…I can't feel my legs!"_

_His expression worsens in horror upon comprehension by his young mind. He didn't want to believe it was true._

_"Hold on Vladimir! I—I'll go get help!"_

_He shouts right before he runs as fast as his legs could carry him, stumbling on the dirt road he and his brother always took when they went to the clearing where they liked to play soccer. Now the clearing is where his brother lay helpless._

_He was almost out of breath, muscles strained and nearly torn, face discolored from the absence of oxygen and body drenched in sweat when he reached the house of the town's nurse._

_"Please…help us! My brother, he's over there by the riverbank, and he can't move!"_

_Before he knows it, a group of people march in the direction his trembling finger was pointed at, and he, left at the hands of another maid, succumbed to the dizziness that accompanied the adrenaline rush._

_He doesn't recall anything after the blackout except for the words of the medic._

_"I'm sorry, but you cannot play soccer with your brother again."_

_The words were like a bullet in the heart._

_"Can't… play … soccer?"_

_From that day on, he grew up hating himself for the ill-fortune of his cheerful companion. He blamed himself for being so weak to the point that someone else had to sacrifice their happiness and future just for him. Until Fate gave him a second chance._

_"Henchman?"_

_"Yes. You carry out my orders, and if you remain faithful to me, I will give you what your heart desires."_

_"What is it that my heart desires?"_

_Lips curl into a smirk._

_"To cure your brother."_

_He didn't know what to do, but he accepted before he could reason out. He'd sell his soul to the devil if it meant seeing Vladimir kick the ball again._

_Silence followed by a scream._

_As he lies on the cold flooring he can't stop the tears streaming down his face, but he knows that his brother's happiness was all that mattered. It was cold, so cold, the blood coursing slowly through his veins, and he could feel the world slipping away. Even the warmth of the liquid trickling down the side of his neck was slowly ceasing to be there at all, clouding his vision with splotches of red. The wounds would be there forever, the sensation of canines sinking in deeper than outside flesh overpowering the numbness of his body paralyzed by fear._

_He became what he feared most since his mother's bedtime stories from childhood._

_He became a monster._

"Why?"

He snaps out of his gloomy reverie and meets a shade of burnt hazel. An answer is expected from a conversation that has been played one too many times, but why can't he give a response?

He opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off.

"Is it because of me?"

He tries again, but Vladimir isn't finished.

"Is it because you still think that after all these years it's your fault that I'm like this? Do you have to treat me like a baby to the point that you do evil things? Answer me, Victor!"

"I know that what I'm doing is wrong!"

Victor answers finally, the tension between them getting worse.

"But it doesn't mean that I don't plan to solve it. I won't hand him over. I will use him myself just as Zabelle wanted to."

At this, Vladimir falls quiet. He didn't expect his brother to go to such lengths for his sake.

"I don't like this idea. I never did. I never asked you to cure me. I may not have anything to say, but silence doesn't always mean yes."

His fingers grip harder on the armrests, head turned in shame.

"I also know that I cannot stop you."

It's Victor's turn to have nothing to say. He was surprised at his brother's words.

"It is your choice, and it is up to you to deal with the consequences. I suppose you already know the challenges that lie ahead, don't you?"

"Yes."

"And I am sure that you haven't forgotten about Sol, have you?"

The henchman stiffens, unpleasant memories of the person mentioned flooding his mind. Back in the days, Sol was also working for the Holy Empress, but just like himself, he was a rebel. When the time came for him to strike, he implored the help of the vampire who immediately refused out of loyalty to the contract he had with the sorceress. This made the other angry, so when Victor was tasked to capture the fugitive, Sol cleverly used Vladimir as a hostage. He had no choice but to let him go. Of course his brother's life was saved, but he was met with a similar consequence from his superior: fail in any mission from that day on, and they will kill his brother.

That's why when he found out that the Thousand Year Moonlight Ritual was still possible and that he was ordered to kidnap the Sacrifice for that reason, he knew that it was his opportunity to heal his brother while also being able to free those under Zabelle's reign. It was a win-win situation for everyone—one soul's freedom was nothing compared to the freedom of many.

"But remember this, Victor: quis custodiet, ipsos custodes. Who watches the watchers themselves? In other words, who has the power to control power? Even if you have good intentions, there is a possibility that you will be consumed in it. You might become a monster! Did you ever think about that? Did you!? Did you ever think of what it might feel like for me if that ever happened, what it might feel like to wake up everyday with the regret of knowing what your loved one was doing yet you did nothing at all!? Tell me, Victor, do you still think you're righteous?"

"Are you contradicting your earlier words, brother? You know that you can't stop me, so the least that you can do is have a little faith in me!"

Vladimir sighed in defeat, hiding his face in his hands. He looked once more at the face of his brother and saw not the young, curious, and innocent child, but a defiant and determined warrior.

"I still think that you're wrong, but you are my brother, and I will support you no matter what."

Victor is stunned. Did he just say that?

"…Okay."

"Tell me when you plan to move. I shall gather some men to be on the lookout and to assist you in your journey to the Four Sacred Runes. Once you have a time frame set, we shall arrange a rendezvous here."

"Understood."

Victor stands up to leave, and Vladimir does the same.

"Thank you, dearest brother, for placing your faith in me. I assure you that I will do what is right."

"Keep in touch."

They share a warm embrace. And the host sees him off.

As the vampire returns to his residence, a shadow slips into the dense forest.

"I must return to the Alpha," it whispered quietly.


	4. A Tour Of Wonderland

A/N: OMGGGGG! FINALLY GOT ZIS POSTED! i was planning to update every week, but nooooooo exams start to roll in and be like argh! oh well, thanks for following and reading and reviewing! I enjoy writing stories about inazuma, and I'm glad that there are those who enjoy it :) ENJOY!

(P.S: IT WILL BE RATED M SOON WAHAHAHAH XD)

KYOTEN CRAP 4: A Tour Of Wonderland

The doors give way once again, signaling the entry of another person. Arion looks up from the old book he was browsing through to see the familiar face of the stranger.

"Ah, welcome back…"

The soccer player greets, but receives no response. Instead, his blue-haired companion

takes off his coat and loosens the ruffled neckerchief draping them over a nearby armchair (and unknowingly giving the other a nice view of that ivory chest). He makes his way over to the antique wardrobe at the far right of the room, pulling out dress shirts, coats, and other articles of clothing and necessities all around the place while packing them into a leather bag.

"We are leaving in three sunsets."

The clueless one stares in confusion as the other continues to scour the room for other things.

"Wha—what do you mean? What's going on? Why am I even here? I—"

_"Silence!"_

He turns sharply to the prisoner, cutting him off and slamming him onto the headboard in an instant. They are too close for comfort, suddenly in each other's faces, and he could feel the hot breath of his captor once more, noting how it faintly smelled of fruits. The boy is taken aback, staring with eyes wide at him. He could almost reach out and touch the skin that looked so much like dough and surely felt like it as well.

"As long as you're here, you are mine and mine only. You are my prisoner and you will follow my commands if you do not wish for punishment. Understood?"

The brunette could only stare in shock into those magnificent eyes. Only then did he let the words sink in and realize that he truly was in an unknown territory. And he immediately felt powerless under that dominating gaze, gripped with fear as he stayed cornered by the other's slim figure that oozed raw power. He could feel himself shaking again, and he wonders if his savior was just a wolf in sheep's clothing after all. So he has no choice but to

nod his head.

_"Answer me!"_

Came the harsh demand.

"Ah—! Y-yes!"

The soccer player bows his head, eyes shut so tight that tears could've spilled over. But the inhuman being doesn't like that. He grasps him by the chin and forces him to look up, forces him to face the beast.

"Look me in the eye when you answer me," he growls, and the other could hear the complete authority in that masculine voice.

Slowly, the boy's eyes crack open, pleading unashamedly for mercy as he repeats his answer with more conviction.

Satisfied, the person lets go, a small smirk on his lips.

"Rule number one: don't speak unless I allow you to."

He turns away and resumes his earlier packing. Arion, more scared than ever, could only curl up in the blankets and let a few tears run roll down his cheeks. All he wants is to go back home, back to his own warm bed where he could wake up to the morning sun and walk to school with his friends, instead of waking up to the empty sophistication of velvet and being subject to the dictatorship of somebody he hated to admit was attractive.

He wants answers but he knows that he won't be given any. So all he can do is wait and follow obediently like a dog chained on its leash.

A thunderstorm raged that night. The winds were at a war again, the ear-splitting thunder their war cries. Every now and then the sounds would work its way into the walls and echo in his "dungeon." Every few seconds was a stop and go routine, making him flinch and shiver at the icy winds slipping through the hidden cracks.

Another clap of thunder bursts in the sky, a crescendo to what seemed like fortississimo already. And Arion hated the thunder, it always cast nightmares of childhood that came back to haunt him. Now they're doing it again, and he can't stop the tears from streaming and he screams, he wants it to stop, it's too loud and he just wants some peace in this world that seemed to plague him with discord.

Until a voice hushes him, breaking through the walls of defense his mind used to shut others out when he was like this.

"Hush—don't scream…"

And at the same time something wraps around him, somehow stilling the waters of his troubled self. They were warm, and they seemed so gentle like an angel that came down on earth. And his wailing ceases, ebbing away into soft sobs and chokes as he huddles closer to the source of warmth that cradled him like the waves of the ocean.

Maybe destiny graces with goodness after all.

Just as he promised, they were preparing for departure three days later. Painful injuries faded quickly into scars that were sure to have dug deep in his muscle. So as the still unnamed persona double-checks the supplies, he tosses a shirt to the quiet boy.

"Wear this. Your shirt was ruined a few days ago."

When Arion checks it, he finds that in his hands is a different shirt, one that resembled the ones his kidnapper wore. It smells much like something familiar, and he remembers what happened nights ago and the morning that came next.

~*~|~*~|~*~| Two days ago

He slept surrounded by pitch black and he woke up to the same darkness as well. It was difficult to see, but he could hear the soft panting of someone else and he could feel himself trapped in his current position, which honestly he didn't mind. And when he looked up he saw the source of his calmness.

Beside him lay the angel that came down on earth—or rather, despite its perfection, fell down on the ground because of it. He could see in that exposed expression everything about the other one, things like his wild captivity yet his shattered innocence, his broken and tangled line of thought yet his purity of intentions. He could see an angel that chose to fall from paradise to sacrifice for someone he probably loved, and who chose to live even in the nightmares of mortality for the sake of his loved one.

As he breathed in that air of alienation from society the other always carried, he could sense his loneliness and the burden he carried deep within the heart that beat to a human rhythm much like his own. He didn't want it to end, he didn't want the hands that lingered in his hair and held him close by the waist to let go, he didn't want those hard curves and sharp angles to disassemble the completed puzzle their bodies seemed to create when their limbs were entwined so intimately. To hold on was to let go, so he held on to let go of the distrust and fear that brimmed up inside.

Unbeknownst to him, this would be the start of a dark attraction that may lead to unlawful seduction and unhealthy obsession. This mystery would be the first of all happiness and all miseries.

~*~|~*~|~*~| End of flashback

Upon remembering his inner thoughts, he blushes madly at the thoughts he had of his kidnapper, and he pushes them away as the darkest desires of his heart. He never knew he could potentially be a victim of Stockholm syndrome, and it disturbed him greatly. Then again, having his life saved by someone and being stuck with only that person for days could do a lot to a mindset still in aftershock. So instead he just puts the shirt over his head, doing his best to button it up despite its looseness around his upper body. However, this seems to have an adverse effect to the henchman.

When he sees how his catch is doing, he can't help but stare at the innocuous youth sitting so daintily like a doll on display. His eyes travel up and down that body, noting how the oversized shirt didn't hug his body in a way that looked so appealing, how the translucence of the material hinted at his petite curves but gave away no secrets. The wide neck showed off the protrusion of the boy's skinny collarbones, leading to a nice off-the-shoulder look due to the article of clothing hanging off at the angle Arion was leaning. Down that nice line on his chest the pervert's eyes (yes, he did believe he was to be called such) followed, ending up on those slim thighs that evened out to a rich skin tone. He gulped down the lump on his throat, trying to resist the odd feeling in his stomach when he saw that insanely appetizing neck that arched at the perfect angle for him to lean in and take a "harmless" bite. He turns away before he is completely taken over by the monstrous side of him, and simply clears his throat to catch attention without staring suggestively.

"We begin our journey shortly. In an hour's time we will arrive at the meeting place. We will have company, so don't be too surprised," he warns.

"Ah, yes…"

The reply comes out breathily, and the way it rang in its ears corrupted his mind with images of what it might look like if he was the cause of Arion's breathlessness, if he could have the pleasure of watching him grasping for breath underneath him as those legs parted invitingly and that body language screamed easy access to virtually every inch of skin that was open to exploitation by his malicious needs. He mentally slaps himself upon realization of the implications, and he growls inwardly at his stupidity.

Instead he focuses on the task at hand, grabbing a strip of cloth and walking over to Arion.

"No questions," he says as he blindfolds the boy and ties his wrists in an instant. The victim is shocked, but he could do nothing except wince and acquiesce to he orders, letting himself be immobilized as the preparations are continued.

Moving on, he makes his way towards the far corner of the room where the cupboard was located. He picks one of the various containers, sticking his hands into the ground tea leaves to pull out a tiny bronze key. He then walks to the bedside table, picking up a tiny music box and opening it to reveal the usual jewelry compartment, mirror, and knob. He then twists the knob a few times in both directions, like a passcode, until the handle itself springs up. He then pushes the button, and the room starts to rumble. The boy is clueless, head snapping up in alarm to hear the sound of shifting and setting of heavy stones. When the blindfold is taken off, he sees a staircase in the corner of the room leading down into the depths of the unknown.

"Let's go."

He slides off quickly, feet slipping into a pair of boots that suddenly appeared at the bedside and fit perfectly. They then walk down the staircase, with the nervous brunette in tow, and begin their descent.

At the bottom of the spiral staircase that seemed endless, they finally reach solid ground to come face to face with a long tunnel lighted by torches on either side. They resume, walking in the dimness for quite a while with no conversation passing in between, but with a plethora of thoughts running in each of their minds. Little did they know that they were both thinking of the other.

At last they reach a dead end, illuminated a little more with patches of sunlight. Arion realizes that they must've been traveling underground, judging by the mossy overgrowth and roots clinging to the walls.

"Step on the footholds so you can climb up. I will push you up if needed."

Those are the first words after such a long silence. The prisoner obeys, stepping on the dents in the wall to hoist himself up. It was quite difficult without his hands, and he staggers some, but doesn't fall due to the other's quick hands clamping around his waist. For a split second he stiffens, exerting almost all of his willpower to not get distracted by the contact and swing his legs onto higher ground. When the boy was safely on top, the other follows, climbing up into daylight. Both crawl from under what was the trunk of an old tree, and Arion gasps at the sight before him.

A huge mansion stood tall in front of him, basking in opulence and majesty. The limestone facade and Gothic architecture boasted of something entirely different from the usual buildings of Tokyo. He wonders if he is just in a freaky dream.

It only gets stranger the moment he steps inside. Frame after frame of oil paintings depict a charming couple, soon evolving into family photos of three, then four. And as the children grew up, he saw something familiar.

'Could that be… him?'

He takes a closer look, trying not to make his intentions obvious. And he sees the same his of indigo captured so richly onto that canvas, with eyes that reflected the sun's rays, standing beside a boy that resembled him. More questions spun around his mind, making him dizzy, but he had a feeling that they would be answered the moment he enters the room at the end of the hall.

As promised, a sea of faces greets him. Some are chatting, others are drinking tea, one is reading a book, another seems to be writing something on parchment, and more. Until the one seated at the head of the table addresses everyone, making all heads turn towards the duo.

"At last our company has arrived. Welcome to my humble abode."

He flashes a warm smile, and Arion immediately sees the connection between his sole companion and the host. His assumptions are only confirmed when his captor walks up to give him the customary handshake and a hug. Brothers, perhaps?

"Anyway, you must be tired from the journey. Brother tells me that you haven't had breakfast."

Speaking of that, the culture-shocked boy realizes that he refused to eat anything for the past few days, and now his stomach is complaining loudly.

"Um, yes…"

At this the hazel eyes turn to the other, who looks away in shame.

"But it was my fault! I didn't feel hungry!"

Arion interjects quickly, though all of them (himself included) are surprised at the outburst.

"Well let's not keep our guests waiting. Oh and someone untie the boy."

At this a raven comes forward and unties the knots. And he feels nothing but relief to be able to feel his wrists again. They walk to the table and take their respective seats, with his prior companion occupying the one beside his brother and everyone else as they pleased.

"Please, do take a seat."

He gestures to the empty seat on the other end of table that seemed to be reserved only for him. So he obliges, sitting down albeit the funny stares everyone had on him.

After a sumptuous feast of what Arion presumed to be a cross of Russian and English dishes of another era (well hardly anything that happened seemed weird at all anymore), the table is cleared and everyone is quiet again. The head once again clears his throat to begin.

"I believe we all know why we are gathered here. I, Vladimir Blade, have summoned you, for I believe that each of you has an important role in this mission.

"My brother is tasked to capture someone for the Holy Empress, Alexandra Zabelle. However, we all know that he is not planning to follow her orders. He will not turn over the Sacrifice for her evil intentions, nor will he let her gain possession of the Sacred Moon Mirror and the Holy Lunar Chalice. That is why he will lead the Sacrifice to his chosen path."

All heads turn to Arion, who is desperately trying to process the information overload. He is a so-called "Sacrifice"? And if he is, what is his destiny? Who is the Holy Empress? Who is his captor and his companions and why did they revolt?

"If that is so," spoke another brunette whose face was framed by waves, "I believe that time is gold."

"Hold on, how are you even sure that we should help him? First of all, he's the henchman of the wretched sorceress, and second of all, what's in it for us?" A boy with silver hair asks.

"Well in case you're wondering…"

At this the group starts chattering among themselves, causing a racket that only grew more chaotic by the second.

"Enough!"

Everyone stops when the said henchman slammed his fists on the table.

"My brother only offered his assistance. If you do not wish to be of any aid in my endeavor to heal my brother and release the people from Zabelle's reign, you are free to leave."

No one speaks. Arion is terrified; somehow he has an idea that his will not be easy.

"I agree with them in the sense that I don't completely trust you," said the brunette from earlier, "but like I said a while ago, time is gold. I am willing to offer my assistance as long as it benefits many."

When no more contradictions are heard, Vladimir takes it as a sign of affirmation from everyone.

"Alright, let us begin the introductions. You may start," he says gesturing to the brunette who stands up in an instant.

"My name is Riccardo Di Rigo. I am the leader of the team."

The boy beside him with carnation-colored pigtails stands up next. "I am Gabriel Garcia, right hand man."

Next to him, a bored-looking guy who is jolted by another pink-haired girl with a green ribbon gets up lazily. "My name is Aitor Cazador, the scout."

The pinky goes next. "My name is Jade Greene, the team's spy for information."

The raven who untied him a while ago goes up next, flashing a bright smile. "I'm Skie Blue, the team nurse. Nice to meet you, Chosen One."

He knew it was meant to be a joke, but he wasn't about to laugh.

A short and friendly-looking boy barely looks like he stood up. "My name is Jean-Pierre Lapin, the messenger."

After all the introductions were given, there was one last person who didn't say anything all throughout.

"Don't be rude. Introduce yourself."

Vladimir chided gently. With a sigh he gets up, addressing everyone, Arion in particular, with those stunning eyes.

"I will be the overall head of this mission. I am a henchman of the Holy Empress, but you may address me as Victor Blade."

With that he sits down, making no eye contact whatsoever.

Victor.

That name will be the one thing Arion was sure he'd never forget.


	5. There's Always A First Time

KYOTEN CRAP 5 (やおい): There's Always A First Time

A/N: WARNING! LIME, BL, TOUCHY-TOUCHY STUFF NO LIKE NO READ WAHAAHHAHH PARDON MY WATEVER FANFIC JUST ENJOY :P

"Alright, here's the plan," Aitor says as he unrolls the old map on the large table. A fresh path was marked in red, crossing through the mountains and ending up at the center which was illustrated as a temple shrouded by mist.

"These four mountains are the Four Sacred Runes," he continues, "and each location contains a part of either of the two instruments. There are obviously trials. To make things worse, there are what we call the Celestial Sentinels who are guarding the gates. And they have powers that could kill thousands with just a snap of the finger.

"As you can see, the path in red marks our course. Gabriel and I are the ones who know the area the most, and we came to the conclusion that this is the safest route."

"Can't we just cut right through here right after the last Sacred Rune?"

Riccardo asks as he points to a region marked as the Lost Overgrowth.

"It's not safe, Rick. It's called what it is for a reason. The jungle is so thick that no light can penetrate it, and the trees and roots are so twisted that no one's ever found a clear road, nor made it out alive," Gabriel answers.

"Don't forget the wild beasts lurking about," a tall, curly haired male adds in.

"But Sam Gook, we'd lose precious time if we take the original path," Jean-Pierre points out.

"I still think that we should trust Aitor and Gabriel on this one," he replies with conviction.

"Well, it's up to the de facto leader. Victor?"

Rick turns to the indigo-haired boy who is taking a sip of his cider.

"I honestly believe that time is of the essence here, and I doubt those folk stories about the forest. But if we try to make our way through the forest, Han is correct in the assumption that there may be creatures that may impede us. And there are no tales whatsoever of anything being discovered about the woods. So it is best to use the first path."

The rest of the team agrees, and they further discuss strategies and supplies until the moon was shining far up in the sky, signaling the time to hit the hay. One by one, they file out, scattering towards their respective chambers.

"Follow me. I'll show you to your room."

Arion looks up to see Victor paused at the doorway. He didn't know how the other seemed like he could read minds easily. Was that one of his abilities?

So he does as he is told, wandering through the halls after the vampire. It was as if he knew the place by heart. They walk along the carpeted halls in silence until they reach the end of the hall with a door that was slightly chipped but was in a good condition nonetheless. Upon opening it, the midfielder sees a room that looked much like the one he stayed in the past few days, with the same motif of velvet and marble. As he examines the room, he notices that the furniture looked dustless, but scarcely used as well. It was decorated sparsely and monotonously except for one personal item on the bedside table which he picks up. On it were the smiling faces of two very young children, as if they didn't have a care in the world.

He immediately recognizes them as Victor and Vladimir. But he also notices that in the picture, Vladimir lacked the cane he was always seen with in the paintings along the hallways and even up to now.

'Is that the injury they were all talking about?'

Arion wonders hard as he stares at the photo.

"This used to be my room. And that used to be my childhood."

The soccer player is startled, almost dropping the fragile frame. He turns to see Victor's back as he spoke even a little of his life. He wanted to know more, but only silence issued forth. And he took it as a sign not to pry, so he simply makes a sound of acknowledgement.

For a moment no one moves. It's just the two of them again, but in that face that was so far away just remembering what is gone, Arion could see his human side again. So close to touch.

"I must go now. Have a good night's rest; you will need it."

With those words he goes off again, coat blazing in the moonlight, but the brunette knew that if had to ask one thing, it would be the words at the tip of his tongue.

"Victor—!"

Both stop abruptly, one in his words, the other in his tracks.

"What is it?"

He hadn't forgotten about rule number one, but he needed to take this chance.

"Why…why am I here? What am I for? Please, I have the right to know!"

There is a pause, as if contemplating whether to reveal the truth or not. Though the boy himself is unsure if he really wanted to know.

"You will know when it is time."

He answers with a voice barely above a whisper, and goes off again just like that, disappearing into the night.

"Victor—wait!"

Arion bolts after him, stopping a few feet outside the door to realize that he was gone.

And this time, Arion truly felt alone.

_He needs to breathe but he can't._

_He forces his mouth to open wider, trying to breathe in more air to supply himself with the oxygen that burned faster than his rate of intake. The pain was like fire fueled by poison, scorching him slowly as it shot through his veins._

_And when the pain almost subsided, it retracted and came back twice at full force, making him cry out in pain. He could feel it, his body throbbing as it escalated, faster, stronger. And he can't help but scream, scream and drawl out incoherent words mixed with moans that only revealed more and more of his growing desire towards such an act. He could hardly remember the pain being ever there, thinking only of the pleasure overwhelming him as that perfect beat rocked in tandem with his body. And he was so close, so close that two became one, so close that he could've sworn that his skin lit up with electricity and set that spark off like the legendary Hiroshima bomb._

_His body refused to resist, complying to the display of power that commanded his submission (to which he'd gladly oblige) and satisfying every deranged fantasy one after the other._

_Every groan spelled content, every snap of his hips as he lifted those legs and raised that volume even higher brought the fulfillment of this appetite no closer at all. The tension was swelling in between their bodies, suffocating him because it felt so good, so sinful yet so right to be panting like this and chanting his name to turn him on even more. And his mouth exhaled hot breaths of caramel apples, tasting so sweet, so sweet like this forbidden intimacy, yet he can't take it, he wants to be his, he wants to be claimed, he wants to be called names meant for a pet, he wants to call him—_

"—RISE AND SHINEEEE, sleepyhead!"

A different voice, one he could've sworn he never heard before, wakes him up. He rubs his eyes tiredly, vision blurry until it focuses on the pink-haired girl from yesterday. Judging from the emerald eyes, the green hair ornaments, and the blue green skirt, he could see that she wasn't named Jade Greene for nothing.

"Come on," she says while shaking him incessantly, "hurry up or you'll miss breakfast!"

"Okay, I'll—I'll be there in a while."

He didn't want to get up just yet, and he exhales a sigh of utter relief when she exits the room. When he slowly peels off the blanket, he gasps silently, panicking and muttering under his breath at his current predicament. He thanks the heavens that he bathroom was inside the room itself, otherwise he'd be screwed. After cleaning up, hiding his soiled clothes and beddings somewhere in the laundry, he prays that the dresser has something in it, and luckily it does. Although the outfit is strange, he somehow had the feeling that he would wear something like it at one point.

A long-sleeved shirt with a pair of decent short pants attached to it is topped by a dark vest with silver buttons and snaps, similar to Victor's fashion. A ruffled neckerchief that very much fit the theme was also included, with a pair of shoes and long socks next to the set. In the drawer he discovers everything he needs; undergarments, other articles of clothing, and more. A note is also taped on the door's inside.

_Dearest Arion,_

_"Feel enlightened to use anything and explore anywhere in the house. You are our guest of honor. Just ask for my assistance if ever I may be of any help."_

_Yours Truly,_

Vladimir

He didn't know what to say. He was surprised at the hospitality showed by both brothers during his entire stay in the foreign land. But it is no time for dilly dallying; the others were waiting. So in a haste he tries to throw on the outfit with much difficulty, unknowing of where to put this and that and how exactly to put them on. He gives up altogether anyway, just putting on the necessities and looping the neckerchief over the buttoned vest the best way he could while trying to copy how Victor probably put it on. When he deems himself decent, he takes a glance at the mirror, and it surprisingly takes him almost everything to convince himself that he looked "just fine".

It was no surprise to him when everyone was trying to contain their whispers and laughter in vain once he stepped in the dining banquet. Cheeks turning red, he does his best not to mind as he walks to his place and begins eating after his short prayer. After the meal, he stands up to leave, but spots a familiar boy supported by his trademark hand carry. So he jogs to the balcony to join him.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

Vladimir looks up only to smile and make a welcoming gesture, patting the seat beside him. They sit side by side, staring at the peaceful morning sky until Vladimir speaks up.

"I know that you have a lot of questions. So go on, ask away."

Arion is baffled. Maybe mind reading is really a skill that runs in the Blade family. Or maybe he was just so obvious.

He had so many questions to be answered, that he didn't know what to ask first. So he started with the basics.

"What is this place? Who are the people that you keep talking about? Why did you bring me here?"

Vladimir sighs. He takes a deep breath before he begins.

"This place is called the Empty Page. It is called so because anything and everything can happen. The rules change everyday. One day, the animals could be roaming around harmoniously and the next, even mythical creatures such as the 'werewolves' can sprout forth and kill everything, unlike your homeland Earth.

"The people we're talking about are called the Pentasect. They are a mysterious community governed by an evil sorceress named Alexandra Zabelle. She wants to take absolute control over this place so that she can rewrite the future, past, and present anytime, eventually being able to control the entire world before consuming the Galaxy."

A pause, the tension is lingering.

"As for you…Zabelle is after you."

"…What?!"

He sputters out after a moment of shock, standing up as if ready to bolt as far away from this place as he can in hopes that he'd get to Tokyo.

"Calm down, you're safe here."

Vladimir reassures him, coaxing him to sit. When the boy does, he continues.

"This place is an alternate dimension to yours. We all live on the same ground, but we do not see your world, nor do you see ours. However, nighttime is when the Empty Page truly comes to life; we, the umbra corpus or the 'counterparts' of your people become visible to only selected people in your group. The Millenia Luna Ritua, as the name suggests, is an event that only comes around in a thousand years, and during that time, the two worlds become one, allowing us to see your world, and allowing you to see ours for a period of time. That is also the time when the Celestial Aurorae of Deus appears. It is said to be the very fabric of this universe, the ultimate source of power, where everything is born and where everything returns to.

"By using the Sacred Moon Mirror and the Holy Lunar Chalice, which are also part of the Deus Relics, anyone can extract the essence of this unfathomable energy, and when absorbed, can bestow on that being the power of this universe. All things will be in the hands of that creature. And to make things worse, that power extends beyond the Empty Page— it will spread to the other dimensions, including Earth, and soon—the whole Galaxy."

Vladimir pauses to pour a glass of water for Arion, who looks pale enough that he might need a drink.

"However," he continues, "the power cannot be transferred just like that. The heavens require a tribute. Only through a Seraph—and the purest one at that—can the power be channeled."

He takes a deep and shaky breath before he says the rest.

"And that Seraph is you."

"…me?… An angel?…"

At this he is completely at a loss for words. He leans back in his chair, eyes void of emotion, lost in thought. How he wished that it was just a funny dream and that he could go home! But he knew that he wouldn't have a decent night of sleep if he didn't clarify everything.

"How about your legs? Why and how did Victor end up with Zabelle?"

"Both of us loved to play football when we were younger."

The midfielder's eyes widen with shock and delight at the sport. It comforted him somewhat, giving him courage and hope because at least he could relate somehow and at least there was one thing that didn't sound scary.

"But one day…our ball fell into the river. Victor tried to reach it, but he fell into the river too."

It was Vladimir's turn to become scared. The fear never left him, etched into his bones, making him tremble and stammer.

"He—he was too young; he couldn't swim. He was drowning, calling for me, I could still remember the way he screamed for help, and I immediately dove in and looked for him despite the raging current. I braved the tide, and I almost thought I lost the one dearest to me, until saw his body drifting farther along with the current, sinking to the bottom. So I swam as fast as I could, grabbing it successfully and nearly bringing him to safety until it happened. My back hit a jagged rock trying to shield him from anything in the river. A sudden sharp pain filled my limbs and I cried aloud in agony, legs crippling and altogether feeling heavy, due to numbness or the paralysis taking effect I do not know, but I hurled my brother on the shore before grasping at a low-lying branch to pull myself up in spite of the torture my body was going through. Victor recovered quickly and got the medics, but they said that soccer…soccer would be taken away from me."

He couldn't say anything. Whatever hopes he had up were suddenly crushed, and Arion was filled with overwhelming sorrow and pity for his fellow converser. He couldn't begin to imagine what it would feel like to not be able to play soccer anymore when one loves it so much.

"My brother felt that he was responsible for what happened. So when Zabelle offered to treat my condition in exchange for his services, my brother agreed without a second thought. And I'm still disappointed at him for that. I didn't ask him to do those things for me."

"I…I'm sorry…"

Vladimir could only offer a rueful smile.

"It's okay. What's done is done."

He stands up to leave. And the other does the same.

"I do enjoy chatting with you, but I regret to inform you that we must be on the move. Hurry and make the necessary preparations; we will leave shortly."

So Arion is left to amble along the halls, all the way up to his room. But as they say, surprises just keep getting better.

"Take off your clothes."

"What?!—"

The now even more mysterious figure gets off where he was leaning on the wall, walking over to him with arms crossed and towering over the smaller one by more than just a few inches. He reaches behind the boy to slide the bar into place, shutting both of them out from nosy visitors. And he withdraws slowly, pausing to repeat the words in his ear.

"Take off your clothes," he says again as he grips Arion's neckerchief, loosening it easily in the process.

Arion backs up against the door, pressing himself as close as possible to the wood in hopes that it would open if he leaned hard enough. Those golden pools are burrowing into him again, and Fear comes back for another visit, making his breath hitch as that awfully glorious body was flush against his own, and the boy could feel underneath all those layers of clothing every angle formed from that smooth stomach he longed to trace down far below the belt.

"N-no…get away from me!"

He wails, shoving against his captor's chest in an attempt to get him off (he just doesn't want Victor to notice the growing need in his shorts anytime soon). But at the same time, he just wants to touch the lean muscle that flexed so handsomely with his every movement. And in the midst of his erotic fantasizing he doesn't take notice when Victor's hands tug off the neckerchief and undo all the clasps of his half-done attire, and more importantly, the gesture of surrender his body language emitted.

He once again attempts to push the other away, but somehow his hands just get caught up in the fabric of the coat, twirling shapes as his shaking legs kick off his shoes just to ward off the weakening feeling spreading from his lower regions to the rest of his extremities. As if things couldn't get worse, the henchman's hands roam even lower down his skinny waist to the buckle guarding his "business". And he couldn't help but whimper quietly when the heat from the leather sliding around his waist only adds up to the uncomfortable protrusion starting to become more visible. Though scared, his curiosity and uncontrollable desire to touch the beast in front of him forces him to prepare himself for the possibility of baring himself naked to such an enchanting stranger, and he lets go of the coat to begin undoing the buttons of his own shirt. That is, until the other immediately gets off, a smirk on those pale lips.

"Idiot. You don't even know how to wear the clothes my brother gave you," he comments offhandedly whilst burying his fingers inside Arion's almost soiled shorts to expose a large patch of skin just below his navel. They easily slip past his thighs, laying in a wrinkled heap at his sock-clad feet.

He then steps back to admire the view of a flushed Arion, red all up to his cheeks and panting like a dog (a pathetic little street dog if you'd ask him), with only a baggy shirt pried open to cover that bantam but uptight pre-puberty body screaming virginity as it led down to those fetishizing hipbones which were nothing when compared to the aching self-explanatory erectile condition the adolescent was manifesting even if the need to hide it was no less than the need to release it. And the inhuman one didn't deny the fact that he was turned on by this salacious but sumptuous feast for the eyes, his gaze overtly probing that sight up and down like the captive was an exotic species at a private zoo.

So he runs a finger along the skin, racing down to the waistband of the thin underwear leading to the brunette's crotch and eliciting soft yet strangled sounds mixed with pleading, debating whether or not he was going to pull it down. He was here just to help him dress after all. A short-lived laugh of malice runs free when he imagines the sweet Seraph moaning and whining like a pet that had a good whipping as he continued to annihilate the boy by taking away his purity right then and there. Then Arion would be no different from the disgusting and filthy creatures on Earth—a human—or more accurately, a fallen angel.

However, realizing what his ludicrous attempts might have done to the chances of saving his brother made him stop immediately and distance himself coolly.

"You're quite fortunate that your purpose has saved you," he remarks at the boy whose face is tear-stricken due to the overkill of anxiety. Victor then makes his way to the door, exiting quietly.

Unable to process what he had just done, he quickly covers himself with the shirt, folding it over protectively as he slides down the door. He could feel the beginning of tears prickling at the corners or his eyes; he was ashamed, revolted, disgusted at himself for savoring the intimacy he had with the delinquent, let alone allowing himself to be toyed with without objection. So he could only sit and cry, head buried in his knees, even if he couldn't take it back.

After what seems like hours or crying, he gets up, deciding that he needed a hot shower. A really hot one, just to calm him down. He then proceeds to taking off his clothes, leaving the all articles except for his underwear on the bed including the vest and neckerchief. He drops off his undergarments in the basket and hops into the shower, turning the tap to nearly maximum heat. As the scorching relief rains down on him, he smiles, loving the feeling that he got from the water as if it was cleansing him of the dirt from his inappropriate act a while ago. As he revels in the comfort, he faintly hears the door swing.

'Oh no! I forgot to close the door!'

He panics at first, but shrugs it off later thinking that it might just be his trauma of uninvited company. Not long after, he switches the knob off, wiping himself partially dry and slipping on the provided robe.

Then he returns to the bedroom to see the Minotaur of the Labyrinth.

"I'm back," he greets Arion who leaps back in shock, grabbing on the bedpost farther away from the pervert with quivering arms.

He laughs the same evil one that the midfielder was sure he'd hear everywhere and every time now, eyes never leaving his svelte stature and a rich bronze glistening with water drops from the shower.

As the intruder points to the bed, the scared Arion sees that the clothes are neatly folded, the set complete with new undergarments. And he had a feeling that what would come next as a sort of payment for this unasked favor would be satisfying to the greedy needs of the henchman.

"Dress up."

A command even as simple as that was something the boy couldn't follow. He felt like a puppet on strings, moving as his master decided; it was painful and humiliating but secretly he knows that he enjoys the attention from the same audience. Without arguing he turns his back to the other and begins dressing.

"Wait."

Arion stops obediently, listening for the next instruction.

"Take off your robe."

He shivers more than ever, doing as he is told and exposing his backside. But the view of that dynamite frame with the lanky shoulders and tiny curves leading to that taut ass and too perfect legs isn't enough.

"Face me."

Arion gasps, arms crossing over his torso protectively even if he knows he can't escape. But because he knew that this isn't the worst, he does so, unfolding his arms ever so slowly to reveal his identity like a flower forced to bloom out of season.

Victor remains speechless, eyes darting everywhere on that body that was so close but off-limits, wanting to touch it so bad that his untamed side couldn't bear this agony, but he suppresses it, forcing himself to be content with the sneak peek he demanded. Well, when you get something this good you'd want even more.

From that insanely flawless chest down to that lean, sans abs stomach just the way he liked it, he could barely contain himself from molesting his cute nipples. And he wasn't sure if he still had his sanity when he dared to venture further, because lo and behold, the angel's phallus hardening once again (from the cold air or the arousal he was getting at exhibiting his body on display, Victor doesn't know) and making him look like a creature depicted in those frescos, only a thousand times more attractive.

Curiosity kills the cat. And angels are the true test of temptation.


	6. Let's Play

OMGGEEEEE ! I planned to like, update every week, but then exams are a bummer :( Anyway, thanks for reviewing and reading! IT makes me happy :) lots of people find it interesting, and it really warms my heart to know that lots of people enjoy this fanfic of mine!

Don't worry, more adventure will come soon and stuff, so just enjoy this BLAH BLAH ,more touchy stuff so yeah I'm so sorry my mind was so freaking incoherent omg help me just read it HAHA XD :) Enjoy, minna! :))

KYOTEN CRAP 6: Let's Play

^pronounced as "KYOTEN crap SEX", thank you very much

One minute he was sitting with the most uncomfortable boner in those tight jeans, and the next, he's got that voracious mouth all over that Victoria-Secret-model-esque skin, tasting an endangered species, a delicacy far beyond crocodile meat or escargots as he pushes down his prey on the king-sized bed. Arion refuses to look, craning his neck all he way to the other side but bringing only more trouble to himself because the vampire just had trapped in the most ungodly situation the most divine conception created in the image of innocent seduction. He growls, deep and low and predatory, like a starved lion on the hunt for the fresh meat that summoned him forth, as he delicately pressures his knee on the premature crotch to let his guest have some fun. He didn't want to but he just had to gasp, mouth watering too much as he attempts to moisten the cavity that's gone dry due to the abrasion of his excited reproductive organs on those coarse but way too fucking pleasurable skinny jeans that hugged those hot legs. Yes, this is exactly what innocent little Arion wants, what he desperately needs from the man whose feet he vows to kiss, he wants to feel that virile monstrosity penetrating his virgin orifice and drill it in, fully in up to the hilt, and pull it out up to the tip only to ram back in at 2000 percent force like he was on fire with Red Bull and sugar concentrate.

He is almost on the verge of cantillating that name with his sweet nightingale voice, attempting to lure him in to his cavern and show him hidden wonders that not even Magellan could discover. Instead he encourages the other by singing notes of ecstasy like a Muse, Victor's one and only, like a bird trapped in a cage as he relaxes against the cushions. Taking this as an indication of surrender, the dominant male smirks widely, pulling his shirt over in a flash to reveal a glorious six pack. It was so perfect, more toned than any of the hunk jocks on the Raimon rugby team, that Arion let out a suspiration of utter delight which heightened drastically to a pleasured gasp when the henchman's teeth sink into his sensitive neck, but not nearly as far to drain blood. And if Arion thought it was better than leeching off his blood, he immediately regretted thinking that as the gentle bite toyed with the delicate skin, grating on it tamely and barbarically all at once on every space those incisors and flat edges could reach to leave dark and deep "love bites". The angel felt so good, felt like he was finally serving someone some purpose even if it felt so filthy, so sensual, so grownup for his inexperienced conscience that was never nurtured by a caring mother nor a watchful father. He had those marks to prove his worth as the chew toy of someone who deserved to be worshipped, and yes it was so demeaning that he felt like a whore of profanity destined to be a slave—no, a worthless little slut to do as Victor pleased.

Arion was jealous of the girls in his school who received so many presents from admirers, they always hogged the spotlight from the weaklings like him who never got noticed, so he taught himself the art of "prostitution" in the sense of captivating attention without having to throw away his body. But now, here he is offering everything he has to someone he barely met all because the meager attention that he garnered from the everyday passers-by wasn't enough to fill that void in him and all because the fact that the handsome mister Blade saved him pointed out that he was worth something after all.

As that moist long tongue (maybe it was normal for foreigners but the midfielder found it sexy anyway) flitted over those wounds, he moaned in response to the tingly feeling he got from both the wet intrusion and the expert hands tracing the bony lines all the way to his abused nipples, but teasing the victim by swerving towards but never landing on the throbbing organ that begged to be touched the most. Arion blushes deeply, madly at how easily an answer could be elicited from him and how easily excited he got, so he wonders what it would be like if he did the same to his predator. A shaking finger raises to skim the thigh still weighing on his erection, extracting a groan at the same time causing the boy to grind against the lithe body without interrupting the molestation session. The brunette's eyes grow large, because for a split second he felt the aching manhood still locked away in the clothes that prevented the horny little gigolo from seeing anything. Oh how he wanted to see that magnificent manhood towering above him, ready to strike the iron while it was still burning hot and sexy and raunchy!

But humans (well in his case the human side of him) are known not to give in so easily. The childlike persona he always harbored yelled that it was wrong to be like this, committing an iniquitous act away from prying eyes with a traitor of all people. On their own the hands move, clasping on those broad shoulders, but alas to his own surprise Arion grips them even tighter instead of pushing them away, wanting to feel that perfect skin as he finally gets to slide his palms down that hairless chest down to that splendiferously irresistible abdominal muscle radiating some kind of signal that supercharged Arion's uncontrollable hormones.

The henchman growls in rebuke but also showing a sign of libido increase. To reward the Seraph's attempts he unexpectedly lessens the pressure of his knee to take the whole of the boy's groin in his hand, making the boy cry aloud provocatively as a sign of gratitude while fisting his hands in that richly-colored indigo.

At this point the older one snarls vehemently. He pauses his foreplay to grab the boy's wrists and slam them on the wooden railings, at the same time snatching the long-forgotten neckerchief so that he could tie them so securely to the point that Arion couldn't feel them anymore.

"Rule number two: don't touch unless I allow you to."

Those words, when spoken forebodingly but in such a risqué manner by the outlander turned the adolescent on in more satanic ways than one. Miss Sylvia would probably be disappointed to see the good boy she's raised playing hanky-panky with the devil's crony, but my oh my this was one golden ticket that Arion would dare not refuse. And it was even more worth it when Victor's hand cupped the weeping member and began to fondle it, massaging the upright nuisance that made the boy do anything just for anyone to pay attention. A simple trail of the index along the shaft that was rich (actually overflowing) with virgin and first-time cum is enough to draw a needy mewl from the boy, followed by another sound, and another one, and another one again, growing louder each time the appendages squeezed and pushed against the hard-on with obviously veteran hands. When the godforsaken manus travels down to the unexplored region of no return, sweet baby grapes it was too much to handle and Arion wails in revelation, in pleasured ecstasy as his reproductive organs grind against each other like they were doing a mother fucking tango. The sweet child opens his mouth wide like he's about to suck on a lollipop, moaning in euphoria as his crotch is slowly but surely set ablaze with the burning embers of a sinister passion budding between the two. Sweaty hands grow impatient, curling up in enjoyment to the beat of his twisting and arching body, wanting to touch the other's genitals just as badly, so badly that his conscience's dictatorship opened his mind's eye so he could imagine exactly what to do.

He desperately needs to get closer, to hold something at least in order to vent out his pent-up sexual frustration, resulting in his legs (that were so weak from the pleasure coursing in his veins) to wrap around that hell of a sexy torso. Boy was it so damn good to let the gigantic bulge in those pants graze the side of his thigh and allow the other to experience this mutual feeling of lust. The only answer is a long seductive grunt and an even hungrier bite forcing Arion to rock back and forth back and forth, letting his erection grind and snag so sensually on that stomach and oh may the gods have mercy it's too late to turn back now, the friction is warming him up, getting less and less coarse until it isn't sore anymore because his seed is starting to drip generously like sticky lotion between them. If only his hands were free to grab something; his fingernails digging into his palms aren't enough to satisfy his urge to hold the other's head in place, hold it closer to show how much he loves it and how much he doesn't want him to let go. He'd gladly wear those bruises like a medal if it meant belonging to Victor and Victor only. Victor, the object of his desire, the only one who could fulfill his wet dreams and give his nightly ejaculation justice. With their bodies so close like this, he wants to be even more unified as he calls out, begging for release.

"AH—aah—Victor—p-please! I-I need…—"

His butchered sentence barely makes any sense, the unexplainably fulfilling sensation in his lower regions is spiking rapidly at fluctuating intervals but he doesn't care because it's a whole new level that he doesn't think he'll survive all in one day.

"Yes, what do you need?"

Victor questions calmly, whispering suggestively in his ear as he treats it with a sudden lick and a subtle nibble of the earlobe and causing Arion's eyes to roll back in his sockets because he never thought that pleasure could be such torture at the hands of this monster.

"I…I nee-AHH! Please, I-AH!"

It's just a garble of disorganized thoughts with less words and more of screams and moans and drooling saliva as his limit breaks and his erection finally explodes like a volcano, coating his delectable organ in a winter wonderland glaze and splattering on the sheets, his torso, and even on Victor. The whole while, Arion lets out the most beautiful sound the henchman's ever heard in his entire life, more alluring than the sirens of the lagoon or the avian creatures of the sunrise or the entire choir of heaven's Angels simply because it's Arion who made it and because this passionate intimacy brought out another side of him. An even darker side.

Slowly the legs constricting him let go after emptying completely, laying limp as the Seraph desperately attempts to catch his breath. Victor, meanwhile, doesn't look exhausted at all. In fact, he looks as if he's just enjoyed a delicious appetizer.

"Was that your first orgasm? If it was, I am deeply honored to have graced you with such a privilege," he croons sultrily whilst licking along that jawline, crossing his cheek daringly up to the corner of those baby lips, and it made Arion shiver desperately.

Their dirty playtime is once again kicked up a notch when the lackey simply drags his tongue towards the chin, down the protrusions of cartilage rings and onto that sweaty chest, not stopping even at the skin below the navel and even if Arion is begging for this to stop as if he was praying to a god. And naughty Victor does everything Arion wants and doesn't want when he engulfs dessert whole. It feels like sucking happily on a homemade vanilla popsicle stick made from the freshest batch of farm milk straight from the cow. Another strangled note of ecstasy bursts forth, alternating with heavy panting like he was on the verge of choking and eventually passing out, but the blowjob is just too damn good to be true that he doesn't want to fall asleep even if he'd escape to paradise because this is way more gratifying than imagining it.

Then it happens. All over again, as the muscle sweeps all the delectable frosting clean, it passes over the slit and the boy could see nothing but stars, stars that could never compete with the shade of gold in his "fuck buddy's"eyes. Oh yes, he moans louder hoping that the other would get the signal to do it again, and his pleas are more than answered as the whole length slides down to the back of the Victor's throat like it was a noodle and holy guacamole he doesn't know if he could take another round of climaxing but it doesn't look like the hot shot with hot pants (and apparently the hots for Arion) would hate it if the penis got hard again. There he lies, with his peeing instrument lodged inside the moist caverns of a stranger who suddenly saved/kidnapped him, claiming that he was "the purest of all angels" but is now practicing his fellatio skills on the virgin.

Shortly after, the vampire lets go, and dips his head just a teeny weeny bit lower to provide the abandoned pair between the extremely parted thighs a taste of the party in his mouth. And it was like one of the deities in heaven threw a damn adult's party, with booze and shit getting the brunette's system way more high than any club in the world. That tongue is like magic, he thinks to himself, as it slides along the groove and licks the underside while the mouth worked in unison to go down on the orchises without scratching it once with those razor-sharp teeth. A familiar proteinaceous scent permeates the air, alerting both of them that someone's at their limit. What makes Arion's flustered face even darker is the fact that Victor only smirks, varying the speed and timing of his tongue so as to let the boy feel every second of the wet contact, feel the agonizing yet satisfying feeling brought by the other, until everything starts becoming hazy and humid and he feels like he's—

"—AH—I-I'm a-about t-AHH!—"

Like the party's champagne shower he releases both seed and the loudest shriek yet, turning hoarse and needy in the middle, cut off by hardcore hyperventilation because he's out of voice and out of breath, amplified further by the quick retreat of the mouth and the immediate bite on the inside of his thigh as Victor quiets his own release.

When both are fully finished, the gold-eyed male gets up on his all fours, crawling up to the boy so that he could deliver his final message.

"Expect another one of these…ravishing activities sometime soon, Arion. And make sure you're still exactly as you are when I come back."

He parts, looking straight into those half-lidded gray abysses to make sure he was crystal clear. And with a taunting smirk he undoes the knots on the headboard, grabs his shirt, and exits discreetly.

Arion is left to himself, in the midst of the ruined sheets and scattered cushions, with the clothes in a disarray and surprisingly, Victor's coat lying nearby. And he hates what he does on impulse when he grabs it and slings it on his shoulders, wrapping the scent of vanilla all around him, suddenly feeling the biting cold of the atmosphere at the absence of body heat. But what he hates the most, he realizes as the tears begin streaming down his cheek and his mind clears up, is his immoral behavior towards Victor and himself. He doesn't know if he was suddenly possessed or…if those were his true feelings in his subconscious, finally freed by the one who locked him up in a cage.

And he was alone again, crying a river at something he knows he cannot take back, something he knows is the truth engraved on rock.

He truly deserves to be called a slut.

DUN DUN DUN! What happens next? HAHAHHA, here's a little spoiler: another character comes into the picture! And he's actually one of my favorites, so I couldn't resist (well yeah it isn't much, but yes, I will add some persons and put more stufff into it :)) Thanks again, everyone!


	7. Let's Play : Save the Princess

A/N: DUN DUN DUN1! OKAY, so this chapter contains an emotionally scarring backstory ( I TRIED OMG WAHAHAH) if it's horrible, please forgive me :P anyway, moment of truth! and yes, most of you guys guessed the next character right (duh, I'm so funny for making you guys guess even if i tagged him) plus, here's a bonus: THE NEXT CHAPTER STARTS WITH THE ADVENTUREEE! HAHAHA i almost forgot about the Runes and all omg!

Thanks again to all my lovely viewers and reviewers :) It always makes my day to know that someone appreciates my writings :) Enjoy this crapter

PS: OMG HAHAH I APOLOGIZE TO ALL THE KYOTEN FANS (MYSELF INCLUDED) BECAUSE WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS THE START OF ALL UHM OTHER SHIPS (uhmmmmm "mistresses" or something?) HAHAHAHH XDDDDD (omg i can't find the words but u know what i mean )

enough of my blabber, just enjoy! :)

KYOTEN CRAP 7

Victor closes the door silently, only to be greeted by a skeptical team leader.

"It's quite rude to poke your nose into others' business, but just to enlighten you, he is in no need of assistance nor visitors whatsoever," he informs in a matter-of-fact tone.

He walks away with a tiny smirk on his face just imagining the way he left the boy, all sweaty and breathing heavily like he had undergone strenuous labor for the henchman's entertainment, and leaving Riccardo wary yet confused as well.

Victor walks away, passing by the windows that offer a wonderful view of the landscape. As he descends the flight of stairs going to the cellar, he fails to notice a quiet spy sitting amongst the autumn leaves on a tall tree. The intruder slips in quietly through the window, skittering nimbly down the left corridor, opposite to where Arion is still located, and enters the room at the end of the hallway. He takes a seat on the armchair directly opposite the door, waiting calmly even though he risked his entire life traveling in broad daylight despite the fact that he is still wanted as a fugitive.

Soft footsteps could be heard outside, drawing nearer. The door creaks open, and another character enters, not noticing the boy until he speaks up.

"Have you some spare time for a quick chat?"

At this the other swiftly turns around, shock momentarily on the face but quickly replaced by a calm demeanor upon recognizing his visitor.

"Ah, Sol. What is it that drives you to ambush me in my peaceful dwelling place?" Comes the graceful inquiry from the other party.

The carrot-top chuckles mirthfully.

"I shall go straight to business; I know that Victor is planning to overthrow Zabelle and perform the Millenia Luna Ritua. But I'm afraid that his will may not and cannot be done."

It's Vladimir's turn to laugh.

"Many days have I spent trying to change his mind, but he turns only a deaf ear. I am the first person he will ever listen to, and you are the last."

"Well," he says as he stands up and brushes off his pants, "you have no one to blame if misfortune comes your way. You have been warned."

With that, the runaway runs away again, flashing a bright smile at the boy who is left to decipher those words.

As the trespasser now known as Sol returns to his hiding place, he hears soft sobbing coming from the other hall. Curious, he takes a little detour, opening the door just a fraction to see a sniffling boy with his knees tucked to his chest, head bowed down and shadowed by mousy tresses. He looked shaken, traumatized permanently as those legs covered with some kind of sticky substance trembled all the way up to those shoulders, certain parts covered only by an oversized coat. And when those eyes poke out from underneath and see the peeper, they widen a thousand times, but Sol doesn't take off because he's mesmerized by the bright gray, shining like the stars of the dark skies of the galaxy.

"HUHH-W-who are you?!"

Arion raises his voice unlike he normally does, pulling the coat around him closer and scrambling away as the the other steadily approaches.

"Hey, shhhh, it's okay..." Sol reassures the little cherub by raising his arms in surrender, but only succeeding in provoking the boy to grab the nearby wine glass in a ready-to-strike position.

"I'm going to throw this and scream if you don't back away!" The still half-naked brunette threatens, trying to be brave but failing at it horribly because of his shaky and disoriented stature. Sol could see that.

So he walks briskly to the other side before the confused soccer player could do anything. He gently cups the glass with his hand, pressing a finger to the brunette's lips as he carefully pries it from the elfin fingers to set it down on a nearby table. And Arion feels a hundred times worse not protecting himself knowing that he couldn't trust anyone anymore, but he just bunches up the coat in his hands, trying to think of Victor as the one who saved him instead of the one who molested him. It was too difficult.

Desperately trying to keep himself together, he turns his head away and sobs silently, wiping his arms with his eyes and withdrawing to the bed, but Sol grabs his face on impulse and forces him to look straight in his own eyes. He doesn't know why, but he feels a strange connection with this abused child. And it tugged on his heartstrings.

"Shhh, stop crying," he says as he rubs soothing circles on those chubby cheeks, flicking away the tears. "I don't know what happened here, but I know that I don't want to see you cry."

Arion shoves at his chest. He doesn't want to hear those words, not after the only person he looked up to just used him in the end. As a plaything. But Sol refused to let go.

"Listen to me. I know we just met, but I-I feel like I really want to protect you. I feel like you're trying your best to protect others too, but you're hurting yourself. Give yourself time to heal. Give me a chance to let you heal."

Those words, combined with a sincere sparkle of sympathy in those sky-colored eyes, make Arion look up with puffy eyes. He hates the fact that the stranger's right; they both know that the prisoner can't make it alone. But he wants to be loved, and he can see truth shining in those eyes.

He doesn't say anything, because words mean nothing now. And he lets Sol pull him closer into a light, comforting hug, resting his head on the other's chest as the carrot-top caresses the younger one with a tenderness unlike anything he's experienced since his parents dumped him in Tokyo all by himself.

Arion doesn't want this blissful moment to end, but the distant shuffle of footsteps could be heard coming closer and closer, like they were somewhere one floor down. And only one person came into his mind-Victor.

Arion panics, looking around for a window so that his new friend can escape.

"You have to go! Victor won't be pleased to see you here. Please, it's for your own good."

Sol nods, and turns to leave, but Arion calls out before the other could go.

"Wait! I don't know when we'll see each other again, but...what's your name?"

Sol smiles again, walking closer to the boy and squeezing his hand, taking him by surprise.

"It's Sol Daystar," he whispers and plants an innocent peck on the other's cheek.

Arion is taken aback, completely and utterly speechless beyond comprehension, fingers flying to the warm spot that sent tingles all over his spine.

"Arion Sherwind..." He whispers as he watches the other wave away with a curt nod.

Arion assumes that the escapade is a success, because when Victor comes in, nothing looks off. It's a good thing that the boy was able to shrug the coat off and leap on the bed before the other's entry. Victor looks the same, wearing the rumpled shirt with the top buttons undone carelessly and his hair slightly disheveled from their previous steamy agenda. Well maybe he changed the pants. He says nothing, walking over to the mini bar to pour some wine into the glass that the boy was holding earlier, until he stops midway. He narrows his eyes dangerously, sniffing the air again, before he tightens his grip on the glass, almost about to shatter it. Of all his senses, his sense of smell was the one he relied on the most to seek out his prey or target. And its deadly accuracy never failed him. Now, he can detect an alien scent lingering in the room, despite its weakness.

Someone's been here. And he doesn't like it, because he knows _exactly_ who smelled like that. He _hates_ anything trespassing his territory.

Growling venomously, he spins to face the only one who stayed in the room, obviously demanding for answers. And he sniffs the air one more time, drawing closer upon confirming its existence which was magnified as he drew closer to the bed. He stops at the bedside, staring down his catch with eyes ablaze with judgement and its due punishment. Bending down silently, he nudges the other's chin upward with his cheek, brushing against his face and inhaling the skin deeply. Both of them don't like where this is going, but Victor wants irrefutable evidence of a crime that's been committed behind his back. He flits his tongue out and licks a line, long and slow, on Arion's cheek.

There is his proof. He could smell its putrid aroma leaking through the pores, like an animal dead set on finding a fresh carcass in the wilderness. Well, a dead rat, when hidden, will always start to smell. And it didn't take long for him to find out.

Arion is shivering again, fearing for the one he thought could be his prince, but Victor doesn't lay a finger on him.

Victor tips the chin up a little to look in those eyes, and he loves it, because he smells and sees the fear gleaming like a lighthouse in those eyes. He tickles the chin, much like an owner would do to his pet, and leaves the room again without a word.

As Sol tries through grasslands and vines, he can't stop thinking of the boy he just met. And his words.

_"You have to go! Victor won't be pleased to see you here. Please, it's for your own good."_

Victor. Then that could only mean that he was really intent on planning to sacrifice this heavenly gift for selfish reasons. It makes Sol even angrier. As his tightened fists bust through the overgrowth and decaying wood, his resolve to complete his mission is further strengthened.

He will stop Victor. And he will save his precious Arion.

At the house, Vladimir assembles the men. In just a glimpse he could tell that someone was missing. Along with someone as equally important.

Meanwhile, Victor is busy in the other wing that remained usually unused since their parents since away. It's not like he cared, he thought to himself as tiny tears prickled at the corner of his eyes.

It's not like he cared.

_There was once an extremely wealthy man who fell in love with a beautiful maiden. He courted her everyday by giving her a different flower each day. And he never stopped until they fell in love and got married. They had a big marriage and moved into a big house. The doctor told the woman, who consulted him after minor health problems plagued her, that she was sick and was not likely to bear any children. She didn't believe him, and shortly after they had a son with hair as blue as the skies of dusk and eyes like warm smiling hazelnuts. They were so happy that they promised to love their son always. Always. _

That was the stupidest thing he's ever heard in his entire life.

_Years later, seven-year-old Victor is sitting by a window, playing his cello. He was practicing for his third performance, and he knew that everyone else could care less. He was to play a new song a week later, at his brother's birthday party, and all of the relatives were invited. Maybe even the whole town. But, he felt bored and lonely. All his teachers praised his brother with the same words like 'prodigy', and he could see right through his classmates who only befriended his brother for his assets. Never mind the younger one, is what their eyes said. Every time he tried to tell his parents about his problems, they'd simply shake their heads and tell him to manipulate things to his advantage instead. And it disgusted him because he knows that not only were they expecting him to take a path he didn't want behind their 'concerned' smiles, but also that his family was slowly breaking apart. Economical crisis surely didn't affect their social status, but it surely did affect their social behaviors. To everyone. And to one another._

_"Mama, papa, may I ask you something?"_

_"Anything for our son!"_

_"Do you love each other?"_

_The question pops out of nowhere, and his parents exchange nervous glances. _

_"O-of course son! Why wouldn't we?"_

_He never asked again after that. Instead, he followed them everywhere. Or at least he thought he did. Even when he tried to do his own thing, the memory of his parents haunted him. In the morning they'd act so lovey dovey towards each other, but they don't_ _know that their son is watching them at night when they're screaming at each other and throwing the plates and cups in the mansion. They don't know that their son couldn't sleep at night hearing his father cackling as the man forced the maids into the master's bedroom to have their rights taken away from them in order to feed their families. They don't know that their son was forced to clean his own wounds after scraping his knees kicking a ball all alone in the forest (only when Vladimir can't sneak out with him though) just because his mother was too busy making women's apparel to make him a bowl of soup. _

_"Hey brother, can you pass the ball?"_

_"Alright Victor, here it comes!"_

_It whizzed through the air like a firecracker, and the little boy successfully intercepts it but wobbles off balance and just as he is about to fall, a hand grabs him and steadies him. _

_"Hold your horses, little buddy," he says as he playfully ruffles Victor's hair, to which they both laugh and fall on the grass. _

_He never wanted those days to end, and that's why he hates the sunset. And he hates the day by the riverbank, the day he lost his everything; a playmate, and all the love his parents had left to spare. _

_And six months before his eighth birthday, his parents are starting to fight in front of him even at lunch time. They didn't make an effort to warm up to him anymore except when his elder brother was there, the one with the hazel eyes that everyone loved unlike the golden eyes he had that everyone feared. He was loathed so much that he had to stay indoors, resulting in his colorless complexion. Well it's not like his parents would think of taking him to his father's exhibits out of town. All they think of is sweet Vladimir. They didn't ever think of Victor's feelings when he was so proud and excited to see his father's works that he even created a homemade 'congratulations' card using the little flowers he grew in the unkempt backyard, only to look around the whole house and find out that they were gone. He was left to eat meals alone for a fortnight. Days after the incident, he quickly recovered, telling himself that it's okay and that maybe they had their reasons for not bringing him along. So instead he makes wise use of the time by preparing a little get-together when they came back. He bravely grabs his coat, slinging it around his shoulders, and brings the worn straw basket his puppy lived in before his mother threw it out because of its smell. All alone he wanders around the marketplace, gathering ingredients here and there while carrying the basket_ _all by himself even if he didn't know his way around so well. It isn't so bad because he gets home in one piece, and most importantly, with the ingredients he needs. He has just enough time to make dinner when the rest of them arrives. Finally, maybe tonight he can hear the words his parents always showered Vladimir with, the words he always longed to hear so that he could finally step out of his brother's shadow. _

_But all his hopes and dreams are burned to ashes like wildfire right in front of him. _

_"Somebody help! Get the water, you useless wenches!" His mother shrieks desperately as she attempts to fan away the flames. She doesn't even pay attention to the little boy crying for someone, anyone as he stands trembling in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by fire on all sides, ready to eat him up alive like the roasted pigs during the town feasts. He tries to run but they block him off, sizzling and crackling in the moonlight as the debris of wood fall everywhere around him. _

_"Victor! Hang on!" Vladimir shouts into the fire, ready to hobble with his cane into the embers to snatch his brother before anything happens but is grabbed on the collar by a pleading mother. _

_"My dear son, please don't throw away your life like that!" She surrenders him to the maids who are dragging him away, even if he's screaming at the top of his lungs that it'll be okay for his little buddy._

_Minutes later the pails are coming in, drowning out the fire from the stove, but the air has become so thick that the child could barely see or breathe to the point that he's dropped on his knees, scratching like crazy at his throat as he gags for air to breathe. And he shrivels up on his side, so weak and helpless that he could barely see through half-lidded eyes except for the fact that the maids were hurriedly grabbing the precious porcelain and dinnerware and other expensive things that were worth a lot. Worth a lot more than him. _

_He could think of nothing else as drowsiness takes him. At least, something pays enough attention to him to take him somewhere and take away his pain. _

_He wakes up to something warm on his face. Cracking his eyes open he sees the sun's rays about to set again. How long has it been? Days, weeks? He pushes off the blankets, but his mouth tears open in pain even if nothing comes out, because he is too concentrated on the pain spreading in his legs and torso. He sees that he is still wearing the same clothes as that day, only that he has bandages put on him, the salve freshly_ _applied. He tries to get the cup of water at the bedside, but his fingers are too stiff to move, so he simply sits propped up by the pillows. _

_A curt knock is rapped on the door, and before Victor could answer, a tall apathetic man appears. _

_"The Master of the house wishes to see you."_

_With that the door slams shut, not even considerate enough to wait for an answer nor assist the handicapped boy. But he doesn't mind, all he wants is to see his parents after a long time and give them a hug with his bandaged arms. So he hurriedly jumps off the bed, crashing on the_ _carpet but immediately getting up and hobbling painfully over to the door and pulling it open to rush downstairs to where he knows his mama and papa were waiting. _

_Mama. _

_Papa. _

_Why did he still call them that even when they never called him "son"? Both questions and tears rise to the surface again as he limps through the halls, but he chooses to ask himself what made his parents keep him around instead of throwing him out with the leftovers. Anything given will be returned a thousand_ _times, so he's just patiently waiting for the time they'll love him back. _

_Not even the stairs were going to stop him from getting to the living room. Grasping on the railings with those charred hands he takes it two steps at a time, uncaring if he forgot to put on his shoes and if his socks got dirty. At last he's on the proper floor, and summoning all of his remaining strength, he runs as fast as he could, limping like a three-legged street dog trying to escape death by a carriage. And even before he gets to the room he couldn't help himself from calling out with his bursting heart,_

_"Mama, papa! You're back!"_

_As he says those words he finally gets to the room, trying to leap the rest of the way to hug them and never let go, but ending up stumbling pitifully at their feet, twisting his foot a little bit more than he should. He cries out and looks up to_ _them, an unspoken need for help in those golden eyes that have seen too much but have known too little, but is met with only the same marrow-biting coldness of the winter as neither make a move to help him. He was confused; are these really his parents?_

_"Mama, papa, I-"_

_"-SILENCE YOURSELF, YOU USELESS BRAT!"_

_The woman shrieks, throwing her ashtray in his direction which barely misses. His insides are filled with fear and he turns to the other one for help even if he knows that there's even less of a likelihood that the husband would disagree with an angry wife. And everything just dies deep inside as the man's frown turns into a condescending grimace, expression ablaze with judgement. _

_"Your mother and I...are VERY DISAPPOINTED!" His voice raises horribly beyond decibels could measure as he pulls out his leather belt and flings it at the child with practiced accuracy and strength. And it slaps across his flesh under the clothes like a hot whiplash, annoyingly numb at first then stinging and piercing a thousand times worse as the fibers open minutely all at once to spew out blood,_ _on his back and on his arms, even on his legs despite the fabric. And Victor just begs for them to stop, saying the words sorry over and over and over and over again and again and again until he couldn't move at all because everything just felt so faraway, so faraway like his stubborn soul was already dying, because those marks didn't hurt his body as much as it hurt his heart and his trust._

_And when his 'father' was finally contented, his 'mother' also evaluates the motionless pile of flesh and bones she's nurtured in her womb like it's a pile of filthy rags. _

_"He almost tried to kill my baby Vladimir. Take him away before he stains my carpets," she tells her husband who agrees. If there's one thing that could bring them together, it was his brother. He himself was merely the bane of happiness. _

_Gruffly, he is hoisted by the collar, towed along to the end of the wing near the maid's quarters and even farther into the storage rooms. A latch is opened and a candle lighted, and the man descends, throwing the child on the floor without sparing a second glance. _

_"Your mother always wanted a girl," he says at the top of the stairs without looking back, knowing that the abused victim was listening. "She spent all her time making dresses when she found out she was pregnant. But you came along. You even ruined your perfect brother. All because of your stupid football and your stupid mistakes. Now her work and sacrifices for Vladimir is wasted." _

_With that the heavy door bangs shut, the little flame flickering once before dying. And he is left alone in the dark, and for the longest time, he cries himself to sleep until his tears are completely dried up. _

Victor abruptly stops, feet grazing the carpeting he could remember so vividly from his childhood as he lay lifeless in the man's arms like he was tonight's dinner. All the pain, the anguish, the jealousy and the hurt that welled up inside him were still there, gnawing away at him little by little as he grew up in the dingy basement, locked away like he was a shame to the bloodline, like he was the world's most grotesque freak in a carny festival waiting to be put in the spotlight so people could get a good laugh out of him. He wasn't even treated like a human anymore, living off of the leftovers (if there were any) and the clothes the maids sent him. He grew up, free of the expectations of parents, free from the intrigues of family members.

_"Hey Vladimir! What happened to our other cousin? What's his name again?..." He heard someone say one day through the thin ceiling during a celebration in his house where he was neither invited nor informed. _

_"It's none of your business." With that his brother leaves. _

_And minutes later, just as he assumed, the door opens and his brother comes in, carrying more clothes, blankets, candles, and books. _

_"Hey there little buddy," he says as he puts down his cane and sits beside the other one. "It's pretty_ _boring up there you know. You're lucky you don't have to smile at anyone."_

_Those words stabbed him like a knife because he wanted to smile and change the world, but it did everything to change his smile. _

_When there is no reply, his brother simply understands and pats him on the back. _

_"I guess you're not in the mood today. I'll see you later then." He hugs his brother before quickly returning upstairs. _

_When he is left alone again, he silently puts on his shoes and picks up his ball, going to the other side of the large expanse that no one ever dared to clean nor venture, to where a flight of stairs was attached to the wall. He ascends, pushing open the doors to bask in the sunlight's path made visible by dust and lint. And he runs across the field, the wind in his hair as he practices all alone by himself. _

He suddenly slams his fist on the wall, trying to stop his body from convulsing. The memories hurt like hell. And until now, not even in the one hundred and twenty-nine years that passed since his parents died, did he ever hear the words he needed to hear.

I love you.

I'm proud of you.

He slides down the wall, covering his face with his hands. Even if the world hated him so much to curse him by taking away the ones he loved, by cursing him so that he could no longer sleep to escape this twisted reality, he never wanted to be the monster his parents were. Especially not towards a boy who did nothing to him even for the sake of his brother.

No, he didn't want to hurt Arion. He wanted to believe that he was still a good person deep inside, he didn't want the things people said to come true because he's sold his conscience to the devil. No, he was better than this.

But every time he tries to push his temptations to the back of his mind, he just can't get enough of those perfect skinny curves and those addicting moans like they were candy. And it angered him even more to know that Sol, that filthy bastard who treated his brother like a scapegoat, touched his most prized possession like that. That disgusting outlaw defiled his precious baby doll, his precious little bitch. And he, being given nothing, owns only a few things, but is _very_ possessive of them. He will make that bastard pay. And he will claim that sweet angel, make him remember every time he wakes to the morning sun, that he belongs to no one else but his dearest Master, that he will do as his Master pleases, that he will succumb to no one but Victor to prove his fidelity as the henchman's faithful slut.

And the saddest part is, that very sickness of his, that unsatisfactory thirst for revenge, is what makes everyone think that he is a monster. Even when he thinks he's not.

Returning once again to the bedroom, he finally has his priorities straightened. He has just told his brother to send them to the stables to pick horses to their liking. Now, no one is in the building save for the two who still have unfinished business.

Arion just watches the other boy walk up to him, hands behind his back to hide whatever he had retrieved like it was a birthday present.

"Close your eyes," he says in a mockingly sweet tone, grabbing those chocolate strands harshly to pull them back. As he does, he snaps the heavy, rusted metal on the boy's neck, a perfect fit as it presses a little too tight against the skin. After it is locked securely in place, the only protrusion is a metal ring, not too small, not too big, but enough for the owner's chain. The newly-hailed "pet" immediately claws at the foreign article, trying to pull it off, but it scratched against his skin and made him feel so tired.

"Please-Victor-it's too tight-! I-I can't...breathe properly!" He implores the other for consideration, to which he is answered with only a whisk of another item in his face which turns out to be the partnered lanyard for his newest accessory.

The chain is linked, and before anything else is said Victor jerks Arion off the bed with no mercy, laughing in amusement as the other one is barely crawling and more of slugging on the ground as the henchman drags him in front of a full body mirror in a corner of the room.

"Do you see that?" He whispers into the other's ear, forcing him to gaze long and hard at his own naked reflection, mirroring not only his various scars and bruises on his hips and shoulders from where he bumped into things while practicing, but the weaknesses and pathetic stature he had. Yet he couldn't take his eyes off his pure form, bared for the vampire to see, bared for him to see, bared for all to see, because he looks so perfect, so right to be leashed by the man kneeling behind him, staring up and down the nude body as well with eyes burning with lust, letting his hands snake around from behind and settle on parts too close to the inappropriate regions which were already molested prior. Arion stares, all eyes and ears attentive as the fingers lightly stroke the petite organ, desperately begging to be given rest, and he voices his plea, tears starting to stream down his face even in front of the abusive captor.

"Please stop..." He whimpers, hands protecting his parts, but they are immediately slapped away, grabbed by the wrists and tied behind the back using the long leash pulled so harshly by its manipulator, and Victor grabs the groin in his hand with ease, fondling it, touching it, rubbing it just right and it drove Arion nuts like he was a dog getting tickled on the stomach, tongue all stuck out and cheeks all red from panting. He twists his arms in every angle but they're bound behind his back that's arching even further, leaning right into the crook of his abuser's neck where it fit so right, breathing against that pale skin and embedding that strange scent into his memory. Simply the skim of a finger pad on the organ felt more fulfilling on a different level from anything soccer could bring, and he twitches violently, shuddering, moaning as he whispers his name unwillingly. His fingers squeeze tight, tighter, tighter in those sweaty palms as his body temperature skyrockets like crazy, sweat rolling down his exhausted form which only made Victor crave his exciting reactions even more. Arion is sickened to the core yet he, he who hated this exploitation of his purity, hated this violation of his rights, sings aloud his notes of praise and satisfaction as his pounding erection climaxes beautifully on those dirty hands. And his indescribably pleasured expression triggers his so-called lover to rip off the demeaning collar and sink his teeth lightly on the base of that mouth-watering throat, deluging his oral cavity with a taste surpassing the rarest of wines because the boy's blood was indeed the purest of all things pure and holy, rejuvenating him like it was the fountain of youth. Arion screams and moans and begs and submits all at once, uttering the name that was not spoken until now, the name that would make him grovel and kiss thy master's feet.

Victor wasn't the noisy type but this treat was too damn delicious to make him keep quiet. He's no longer a civilized Englishman when he gets a sip of that elixir of the gods, a glimpse of a paradise all for himself, making all these noises of contentment and he can't help but slurp it all, greedily consuming everything pouring in generously. He doesn't realize that he's biting harder just to keep his control in check, digging his teeth into the flesh like a nail hammering into wood. It could be taken out easily but it would leave deep scars, permanent marks, and he liked it that way because it was like a stamp to show that Arion belonged to only one person. And that was him.

"Arion," he breathes out as he liberates the aching neck, heavy and lascivious, words dripping with poisonous aphrodisiac that's overriding Arion's system. The dizzy minor wanted to scream as loud as he could a while back, but he's lost his voice and he can't feel his throat, reminiscing only of how painful but oddly pleasurable it felt in his hazy post-orgasmic moments.

"Victor..." He croaks out desperately, reaching out to cup the man's cheek, but is only denied access as the other snarls threateningly. He immediately leashes the other once more, robbing the other of the little breath he could grasp.

"Rule-breakers deserve punishment," the voice replies, husky and grating on the nerves in a way that still got the already dead cat curious. Victor licks the trail of blood leaking from the overt love bite. It tingles his skin, like a butterfly on his bare chest. Even if the hands dancing all over his skinny body smear his seed everywhere, it doesn't go unnoticed as that extraordinarily talented tongue laps up every bodily fluid from the chest up to his own sticky fingers like ice drop candies. Holy mother of all mackerels. He isn't sure if he wants to be an angel if heaven would hurt as much as this. He stays still, rubbing his cheek at the base of Victor's neck, relaxing into the arms that were wide open. He could feel his eyelids dropping heavily, his vision obscured by cerulean strands but he's fighting to stay awake. Who knows what Victor might do to his unconscious body.

"I..." He clutches on his neck, trying to ease the soreness. He feels himself being lifted off the ground and he struggles, tossing and turning, but is only greeted with a light caress on his shoulders. Cradled so lovingly in the arms of a strict disciplinarian, he trembles in fear, trying harder and harder but failing faster as he wrinkles the ruined button-up in his hands.

"Get some rest...you must recover from such a burden being placed upon you," Victor advises, with the same concern laced in his voice like the first time Arion met him. It was so sweet to hear such care again that the boy couldn't resist smiling one of those innocent and heartfelt smiles even if the mood swing was so ambivalent that it was frightening.

"Okay," he replies, slowly letting his grip go loose as he is laid carefully on the bed. To Victor, he seemed like a life-sized doll as he stayed perfectly still, wallowing in the realm of sleep. So without warning nor the slightest notion as to why he did it, he kisses his little plaything chastely on the forehead. One thing he was sure about, however, was that the brunette didn't know about it. And as he stared at the sleeping angel, he was also sure that maybe his pure little heart could forgive a monster like him and teach him how to love again.

Maybe.

A/N: YOU GUESSED IT RIGHT- IT'S SHINDO EVERYBODY! YAYYYY! WOOHOOO! (GIVES U COOKIE)omg HAHHHAHAHAH XDD 


	8. An Unwanted Invitation

TADAHHHH! THE NEXT CHAPPIEEEE! Well, this is my attempt at putting adventure HAHA XD Please, do enjoy! It's so late right now, but i had to get it out :P

WARNING: There will be a bit of RanTaku and RanMasa and ShindouxAkane in this chapter (it's kind of a squinty thing though), so please bear with it. AND if there are more stuff aside from KyoTen (like the TaiTen thing in the previous chapter), that is for flavor purposes HAHA (it's a thing with me where i usually ship one of the peeps from my OTP with someone else so that I can appreciate my OTP more by saying "it looks so much better with *insert other guy from otp here*)

anyway, enough of my blabber, and go on :)))

KYOTEN CRAP 8

Smothered voices mixed with village noises are what greets Arion this time. His back doesn't feel so good, and just as he gets up, a rocky bump jolts him upright and off the seat, and what he presumed to be wheels are awfully out of sync with the clamor of horse hooves on the rocky ground. He realizes with a start that he's in a modestly-sized carriage, enough for four people. He also notices that he's wearing clothes now, strange-fitting ones that were irksomely perfect to his measurements, styled into something that somehow reminded him of those young english boys going to school. It's complete with the coat, a vest, a polo, a ruffled neckerchief thing that he still didn't understand how to put on, pants, and annoying closed shoes. Not his taste, apparently, but not bad.

Now that he's perfectly blending in with his surroundings, he struggles to lift himself on the seat despite the turbulent trip, and he peeks out of the corner of the curtain to see a completely different setting unfold in front of his culture-shocked eyes.

Rows after rows of short brick houses are on the right side as they rush through what Arion presumed to be the city. The boy cranes his neck to look at the road in front, and as the carriage speeds ahead, nearly bumping into businessmen in their odd suits and top hats or into busy housewives carrying buckets of milk or vegetables to the market somewhere on the left probably, he could see more of his companions riding on other horses in front. For instance, he could see a flash of blue waving in the distance; probably it's Victor. The midfielder switches to the other window, and he sees a peculiar and noisy bazaar full of cows, sheep, fishes, people haggling and shouting prices about, children running back and forth, customers trying to tow their baskets through the crowded passageways, and other shadows looming under the old yellow canopy of the stalls attached on wooden posts using rope. It's so different from the modern supermarkets and shops in his town, and he is amazed by the women in long skirts and mysterious people in robes and hoods.

Suddenly, the door he is leaning on flies open, and he yelps in shock as he feels himself falling forward, but he is pushed backwards instead. Landing on his bottom on the other side, he rubs his head sorely as he looks up at the intruder. The moment the door is closed, the man turns around to face him with a silly smile, and Arion relaxes upon seeing the familiar face of Vladimir.

"Forgive me for the intrusion," he says with a small bow as he helps Arion on one of the seats without losing balance. "We are almost at the First Sacred Rune."

Arion's eyes widen with shock.

"Is it...for real? But we're in the city!"

"It is in the city itself, and the city is on one of the mountains. All we need is a disguise. As of now, call yourself Aaron Sheldin, okay?"

"O-okay," Arion replies, still a bit shocked at the rush of everything.

"I'm sure you're not accustomed to our speed. It's just that we were attacked by some bandits earlier and we're not entirely sure if we lost them already," Vladimir apologizes.

The vehicle makes another turn to the left, and the brunette checks the window only to see a monstrous gate in front of them. The carriage slows down as some guards with black uniforms and golden buttons approach them.

Arion and Vladimir listen intently to the conversation which is near the door.

"Good morning to you, gentlemen," a man with an odd brown mustache speaks in a diplomatic manner, "what can I do for you?"

They hear Rick's voice reply.

"We are the San de Salvatorre. I believe you have been informed that we will be performing tonight?"

The guard looks at his companions, doubting Rick despite his seriousness. Arion is worried that the guards would have them arrested for fear that they were bandits. Then, the guards come to a conclusion.

"Do you have any proof?"

"Yes, we do."

Arion is amazed at his leader's preparedness as Riccardo pulls out a rolled piece of parchment from the satchel of his horse.

It has a wax seal with a monogram of a "W" on it, unbroken.

"That's the seal of Lord Wunderbar," one of the guards with an odd bowl cut that covered his eyes and had gravity-defying tresses for his silver hair, whispers to the man rubbing on his mustache.

_To whom it may concern,_

_Good day to you and the members of the well-applauded San de Salvatorre! I, for one, am truly amazed at your skills and talents, especially that of your performer Aaron Sheldin. I hear that he is from a line of family dancers and that he has joined your crew, which is also comprised of talented members. _

_You band of travelers have a remarkable repertoire, I must say, and I invite you to join the Grand Gala de Masquerade which will be held at my residence in Fontana Luna Futuristica, which is located at the City of Galaxia. It will be held on Saturday, at seven in the evening. _

_It would bring me and the other guests great joy if you could attend this event, not as performers, but as special guests, as a part of a friendly social event where you may mingle with equally bright and extraordinary people such as yourselves. Worry not, for you shall be provided lodging during the time of your arrival until the day after the ball, food, water, all the basic necessities. _

_We truly hope that you can be a part of this significant event. _

_Yours truly, _

_Lord Clark von Wunderbar_

The letter looked real enough, and the watchmen, after huddling together and deciding what to do, agree to let the company in.

The gates swing open, and the band travels on, with the guards still watching them carefully. As the carriage passes through, Arion can't help but feel that they're paying too much attention to the vehicle, even if they didn't check who is inside.

Arion could now take a better look at the mansion-no, it was more like a castle! Probably bigger than Blade residence, he might add. The architecture looked more English to him, made of a combination of stone and wood. It had a more warm and homey glow, and it also had a well-kept lawn, with gray stone walkways that allowed them to have a wonderful view of the statues and bushes which were all shaped into the same weird-looking creature. The best thing to call it would be something like that of a teddy bear, but really? A teddy bear? A statue of it? To make things even stranger, a fountain made of marble at the middle of the property, spewing out beautiful clear water on the shiny, colorful gems at the bottom of the bowl, was shaped also into the bear. The water came out of the thing's mouth as it did some kind of ballerina pose, the type where both hands were raised in the air in a circle while one foot was in the air, and the supporting leg was standing on its-uhm, should he call it the bear's [really] stubby toes?

Vladimir laughs a little at Arion's half-appalled and half-amused face.

As they are led to the back of the mansion by a steward, they see another huge expanse of green, which sloped down into hills far beyond. There were areas which flattened out into a field, and there were stairs on some parts to make the descend and ascend easier. At the direct bottom, there was a clearing, where a pedestal with a bowl, presumably for the light at night, was placed at the center. Around it were more benches and a few trees, and the floor there was made of cobblestone like the walkways and stairs in the lawn area.

There were even gazebos scattered around the expanse of the clearing and even in some farther areas, and there were hedges of assorted flowers and shrubs lining the walkways, stairs, and gazebos. All in all, it gave the impression that it was quite hard to maintain, so Arion could only imagine how extravagant the inside would be.

At last, they park at a covered shelter nearby. The horses are unhitched and led at once to the stables by another man, and Arion gets out to help his companions load their things on the carts provided by the servicemen. They are promptly received by an accommodating woman, with navy blue wavy hair and red glasses on her head. She, unlike most of the women Arion saw prior at the market, is wearing a long, cream-colored dress with a not-so-thick petticoat. The sleeves only reached up to her elbows, and the simple round-neck cut and simple designs of white and a little bit of gold trimmings coupled with her confident stance made her look professional and well-educated.

"Good morning to you. I am Celia Hills. You must've come a long way. Thank you for attending the Grand Gala de Masquerade."

"Good morning. We are honored to accept your invitation. Thank you for accommodating us," Riccardo speaks on everyone's behalf.

The lady smiles and nods, and she motions for them to follow her inside. When they enter, Arion can't bite back a gasp of wonder at seeing the lucullan interior. More portraits are on the walls, and the huge windows with their floor-length velvet drapes let in the late morning sun while providing a view of the surroundings. The carpeted floors make their footsteps soundless as they travel up the grand staircase, watching the chandeliers twinkle as they pass the earth, emerald, and ruby colored halls that are lined with heavy set doors on one side until they reach a certain hall.

The woman turns to face them.

"Since we understand that you are a huge band of travellers, this whole hall is allotted for you. It is up to you for the room assignments. The men will be here shortly for your belongings. If you need help..." She pauses before opening one of the rooms and picking up a silver bell from the bedside table, "...just pick up the silver bell in your room and ring it a certain number of times according to the staff you would like to address for your needs. There is a small paper there for the number of rings and the respective department. Feel free to explore the place, but I regret to inform you that the fourth floor is off-limits because that part of the house is Lord Wunderbar's residence area. Thank you for understanding."

With that she returns the bell, handing the keys to Vladimir, and she does a little curtsy before excusing herself.

The moment she disappears, Victor clears his throat to address the whole team.

"We must meet so that we can discuss our plans further. First, we must get our room assignments out of the way."

After a quick discussion, they all pick their room mates. Not like anyone minded the combinations though; they were all fine with anyone from the start, but Arion knows he has no say in this whatsoever, because he is immediately entrusted to Victor and Vladimir...

...Well at least there's a "chaperone", right?

So what could possibly go wrong?

"We must all meet up at The Unicorn in thirty minutes. I assume you've all seen it on our way here. It is much better if we all don't go at the same time so that we don't attract too much attention. Understood?"

After a nod of affirmation from everyone, they all pick up their respective luggage, but Arion realizes that he didn't get the chance to pack any.

"Don't worry," Rosie speaks all of a sudden when she notices Arion's confusion, "Rick told me to pack some stuff for you. I gave them to Victor already."

Arion turns to see Victor already carrying two bags, waiting for him. Sheepishly, he follows the older male all the way to the far end of the hall. Once they move their things to the respective places, they immediately depart for the pub.

The walk there is as silent as the one going to Vladimir's place.

"I wonder how Lord Wunderbar can afford to keep up this place while inviting guests and holding parties all at the same time," Arion muses to himself as he walks alongside Victor.

"This place is actually part hotel," Victor answers, much to Arion's surprise. "The Wunderbars are a line of rich businessmen, warlocks, and priestesses. Lord Clark von Wunderbar is one of the last descendants, and he inherited all of the fortune of the Wunderbars. Aside from all that stockpile money, he invests it in studying magic and maintaining the heritage site. He also turned part of the mansion into a bed and breakfast, something like a hotel, probably to earn more money and because it must've been lonely living by himself."

Arion can't help but stare in awe at Victor. Not only is he strong, fast, caring for his brother, hospitable, well-mannered, loyal, diligent, handsome, and well-toned-he is also quite the intelligent and knowledgeable one. Is this an all-in-one package, or?...

At last, they reach a rather small pub with a creaky wooden sign on a post and a wind vane on top. The sign has the words "The Unicorn", which Victor checks before entering. He holds the door open for Arion, who says thank you, but the brunette feels rather disconcerted by the fact that he's being treated like a lady, more so when all eyes in the pub look at the newcomers. Many of them are men, half of them are drunk, others are in their little rambunctious groups while chattering amongst one another. The duo make their way to the second floor of the pub, opening a door and taking a seat at the huge booth where Rick, Gabriel, Aitor, Rosie, Jade, Skie, Sam Gook, and J.P. are already waiting. They wait for five more minutes as everyone else arrives, and then they begin their meeting.

"Alright, so we have three days before the ball. According to another letter from Lord Wunderbar that one of his servants gave me, we are to start the dance with a short number, and only then will we invite the others to follow. Now, we need to practice a dance first of all. Then, we still need to get our costumes," Vladimir reports while thinking of the group's plan.

"Also," Gabriel adds, "I read a little bit about the Deus Relics, and I found out that the Sacred Moon Mirror, one of the items we're looking for, got split into two, and the handle was entrusted to a messenger of the future. Both the family tree and the talk of the town contain information that the current Celestial Sentinel is from a line of people that have green hair.

Odd, don't you think? But the best part is," Gabriel takes a sip of his water before continuing, "I heard from some gossiping women that he or she is a guest at the party as well."

Riccardo smiles proudly, but he asks a very crucial question.

"So all we have to do is get it while the person is watching or dancing. The question is...does anyone know a dance?"

...

No one answers, and they all scratch their heads in silence, dumbfounded. It was a great plan going down the drain. Until someone in the room coughs.

"I think...I remember a dance. I used to take lessons when I was six," Skie admits shyly.

"Really?" Riccardo lights up with hope. "How did it go?"

"It was a simple ballroom dance, but it involved having the girls switch partners-"

"That's it! One of the girls could get near the person and nick the part of the Sacred Moon Mirror! And-"

"Let me finish!" Skie hits Jean Pierre lightly on the shoulder before huffing and waiting for silence to continue. "And to make things more challenging, we need at least four girls. We're only three right now..."

Everyone heaves a heavy sigh, returning to a dead silence.

Then all of a sudden, Jade snaps her fingers.

"AHA!" She exclaims, leaping up from her seat and scaring Eugene at the same time.

"We can let someone cross-dress!"

Every boy in the room suddenly seems stiff and sweaty. Who'd want to parade around in an itchy, heavy dress while dancing like a lady? Not on their man's pride.

"It has to be someone pretty slim though," Adé points out as he scratches his raven hair.

"Hmm...how about Eugene?" Jade replies.

"But I-I'm not good at moving around quietly-a-and I'm pretty sure I'd trip or sneeze and give everything away-" Eugene starts coming up with all kinds of excuses, and everyone in the group could see why.

"Oh yeah..."

"Unless..." Skie mumbles, getting an idea while staring at Jade and Rosie. As if at the same time, all girls slowly turn their head to Arion. Everyone else follows, and soon, pretty much everyone is thinking of the same thing. Only Arion takes a while to get the picture.

"No. No no no no no," he mumbles and stutters as he waves his hands in front of his face and pushes his chair backwards in a really weak attempt to run away.

But the pink-haired girl is already sizing him up, and after a little talk, they face the group again.

"It's decided. Arion can be the fourth girl."

"WHAT!? I've been having absolutely no say at all this whole trip; first, I get abducted from Tokyo, next, I get whisked into this house with all you lot while being told that I'm some kind of heavenly sacrifice for the position of the Holy Emperor and now I'm off to some scary adventure where we have to steal and run away from bandits and forge and cross-dress?!"

_Not to mention the part that I get molested by some hot, nasty, pedophile vampire_, he adds in his head.

Everyone is silent, even Victor. They've forgotten that he is still a human boy like most of them. With rights.

"I deeply apologize for our rudeness. For mine, especially."

All heads snap towards Victor, who isn't even looking in Arion's direction but somewhere on the floor to his left.

"But we cannot turn back time," he continues as he lifts his head and faces Arion with a cold glare. "You have no choice. If you want to prevent your precious home from falling into evil, you must do your part. Even if it means sacrificing your own desires. Do you want your friends and family to suffer at the hands of Zabelle just because you're acting like a mollycoddle?"

Victor reviles him without shame and without compassion. It is the quickest way to get to Arion; after all, when a dog is not tamed, it will strike back. Arion is stubborn, and he will continue to persist if the henchman talks sweetly, so it's better to cut to the chase.

"I...no...I don't want that to happen..." Arion's defiance slowly dies down as he thinks about the people he loves. He was so...selfish. How could he think of himself only? What about his parents, Aunt Sylvia, and his school mates?

Arion hangs his head in shame, and he sniffles a little before wiping his tears away. He has to be strong for them.

And he has to face his destiny.

"Alright. I will do it."

The tension in the atmosphere suddenly dissipates, and everyone is hopeful that their efforts will not be wasted.

"Now," Vladimir calls everyone's attention as he claps his hands, "the dance."

"I'm pretty sure we're allowed to use the field outside the mansion," Kaiser suggests, and everyone agrees, standing up to leave in pairs or groups to avoid attention.

Only Arion and the Blade brothers are left. The little boy stands, but Victor doesn't move, so the brunette looks at Victor.

"Are you coming?" The question isn't demanding, but is asked with caution.

"No, you go ahead," Victor waves his hand, and Arion just nods and catches up with Rick who immediately engages in conversation with him about cross-dressing.

Only the two brothers are left.

"Hmm...you don't seem alright with this plan, aren't you, Victor?" Vladimir asks his brother with a little laugh. After all, he's the only one who knows his little buddy well enough to know Victor's opinion of dancing.

"I don't want to dance..." He seethes as he narrows his eyes at the floor, to which Vladimir responds by chuckling and ruffling his brother's hair.

"Oh well, I tried signing you up for lessons but you almost murdered the instructor," he says jokingly as he gets to his feet. Victor follows suit, sulking behind a laughing Vladimir, but in his mind he can't help but wonder what Arion would look like in a dress. Well, no pain, no gain.


	9. Shall We Dance?

A/N: HELLO! it's liekk, 1 am! (does that still count as a weekly upload?) SORRRYYYYY! the point is that it's finally done (yis, dis chapter izz too long for my liking) but i couldn't shorten it cuz it would become so draggyy.. anyway, i was literally planning (before) not to post a new chapter unless i'm two chapters ahead, but NOOO i had to change stuff and now i'm liek ugh, no more stock :P

PS: did i say RanTaku and RanMasa in the last chapter? i meant in this chapter HAHAH XD (it's just extremely squinty though)

anyway, enough of my boring talk and ENJOY!1 (WARNING THERE IS MORE TOUCHY TACHY HERE)

Disclaimer : (HAHAH SO LATE i just got paranoid cuz all the writers were doing it and i wasn't) i don't own InaGo or IE.

KYOTEN CRAP 9

Once the Blade brothers enter the gates of the Fontana Luna Futuristica, they see the others already in a formation while Skie is at the front teaching them. They descend the stairs, and they are all in their positions.

"Okay, so the first few steps are these," Skie says as she demonstrates the moves of a dance that looked something like a cross between a waltz and a riveting rumba. Surprisingly, they're pretty easy to follow, and even the people with two left feet easily catch up. Even a struggling henchman does fine. When all of them learn the basic moves and the other guys without partners are given a separate dance, the girls and Arion are given their partners.

"Skie can go with Kaiser since he's pretty good at this thing," Jade casually comments, making the silver-haired guy almost spit out his water.

"What the hell!" Michael hisses, steam almost issuing from his head only until Doug puts a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

"It's just a few hours," the purple-haired male says nonchalantly, which only makes Kaiser huff and cross his arms.

"Fine," the hothead mutters, stalking off to get some fresh air.

"I'll go with Rosie."

All heads snap to Rick who hasn't said anything all throughout the practice.

Rosie's cheeks redden even deeper than the roses on the nearby bushes, looking anywhere but at Rick, but no one seems to notice. Gabriel's face remains stoic, but Aitor can sense how the other male is straining not to let anything out. Aitor is worried that one of his only friends is going through something that the scout can't help him with.

"Okay captain," Jade continues, as if oblivious to Gabriel's mild shaking.

"You can go with Roma," Rosie speaks this time, trying to cover up her nerve-wracking instability and unexplainable happiness at being paired with her silly crush. Luckily, Jade starts protesting at why she should dance with "some weird, annoying guy who thinks he's a samurai". As they argue, Skie shakes her head before separating them and persuading the team's spy to just go along with it.

"Arion, Arion, Arion...hmmm...who could be his partner?..." Skie thinks as she massages her forehead.

Since no one volunteers, Vladmir is such a nice guy that he raises his hand.

"I'll do it," he says while offering a small smile.

"But brother, your legs-" Victor starts protesting, showing concern, but Vladimir just dismisses it.

"I'll be fine. My legs are actually quite efficient now, and I only need the cane because I get tired easily. This dance isn't much of a strenuous activity. Besides, I'm undergoing medication, right?"

Victor nods, a bit uncomfortable at the word "medication", but he drops the issue.

"Alright, let's do this!" Jade yells, and they all go with their respective partners.

Finally, after around three hours of practice, they finally get the hang of the routine.

They all are about to drop on the floor out of exhaustion until the sound of excited applause scares them out of the blue.

"Bravo! Bravo, bravo, bravo!"

The continuous praise is endless as an odd-looking figure from the distance comes closer, and most of the company shrieks or yells or gasps upon seeing a huge blue bear walking up to them.

"EHH!-" Arion could hardly contain himself at seeing the really weird bear wobbling closer and closer. He hides behind Vladimir, who only laughs at Arion's frightened reaction, and also at Victor, whose face momentarily twists into shock and speechlessness.

The bear, wearing a classy top hat and an expensive looking coat with two tails, slowly ceases clicking something in between his paws. It's a pair of fancy ivory castanets, probably because his claps would just be muffled by his, uhm, fur? The bear pockets the instrument and comes closer, taking off his top hat and giving a short bow.

"I have not made a mistake in inviting you. Welcome, welcome to my abode," he says as he reaches out to shake Rick's hand.

"Lord Wunderbar, it's a pleasure to meet you," Riccardo continues as he offers a professional smile.

"Please, just call me Wonderbot," the bear continues, regarding the company with a smile.

"Oh heavens me, that's right! I was supposed to tell you something, but I got so caught up in your astounding practice that I just had to wait," Lord Wunderbar exclaims all of a sudden.

"What is it?" Vladimir asks, approaching the two.

"Ah yes, Lord Vladimir Blade! I was supposed to show you to the ballroom. Didn't Lady Celia show it to you?"

"I'm afraid not," Rick replies, "she probably didn't know that we would practice."

"Well none the matter; please, follow me, and I will send someone for refreshments," the bear says kindly, motioning for them to follow him as he calls over a servant to give instructions to the kitchen chef.

As the company moves on through the halls of the mansion, Arion can't help but get freaked out. Sure, at the Blade residence, there were paintings and relics and statues, but here, there were even historical items with plaques containing descriptions. Some of them included the sword of Oda Nobunaga, the ancient helmet of Joan of Arc, and more.

"Those are just replicas," Lord Wunderbar speaks from nowhere, alerting the brunette. "I'm quite the fan of history, you know?"

Arion nods in acknowledgement, silently admiring the other things on the way to the dancing hall. He sees more things like a painting of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, as well as some text he read containing information on Okita Souji! What were they doing here!?

As he sees one weird thing after the next, it starts shifting to soccer things. He gets excited at first, but also puzzled. How did this man manage to get jerseys of the legendary Inazuma Japan?! There's even Little Gigant, Orpheus, Unicorn, and other teams from the legendary season of Football Frontier International when Endou-kantoku's team won, as well as famous schools back at home like Kidokawa Seishuu and Teikoku! Arion's tongue is itching to blurt out all these random questions, but he decides to keep it to himself; after all, this place is really a strange one. He still thinks he's probably in a coma and in a dream.

They stop at a dead end. The wall has nothing but a huge, beautiful silhouette of a tree that was probably as wide as five of the bedroom doors in the mansion. Arion is afraid that they'd end up in Narnia or something, but as the bear clicks his castanets twice and declares the words "Open Broccoli!" the tree suddenly forms a line in the middle, and the 'doors' swing open to reveal a grandiose ballroom.

The extremely tall windows (or doors, he couldn't really say) reached from the floor to seven-eighths of the wall, covered by velvet drapes on both sides as the glass filtered the noonlit sun. On one side of the glass, a door of sorts was open, revealing a set of stairs leading to the field below, since the ballroom was on the second floor. Next, the men are busy setting up tables of sorts at the sides, with white linen tablecloths and wooden chairs with white cushions and gold trimmings. The walls had a bright bronze gold because of the torches and chandeliers hanging above, and frescos of happy merrymaking are on the walls. A huge space at the middle is probably for the dance floor, and at a corner, they could see a small stage; probably that's where the musicians would be.

"I will be seated there," Lord Wunderbar points to a certain spot that had a perfect view of everything, "and your table is there as well."

"Please, I am sorry for the inconvenience earlier; I believe that it is much better for you to practice here, so that you can also fix any positioning and maximize the area as well. I shall be off now, for I have other matters to address, but thank you once again for coming. The servants will be here shortly for your snack. But do save some room; lunch will be served in a few hours."

With that he bows again before wobbling off, leaving the company to wait for the food and get some rest. Shortly after, the drinks and snacks arrive, and they all have their fill of some kind of refreshing orange liquid that sparkled a lot but oddly refreshed them a lot. It's even funnier when the small cakes, shaped into triangles, also had the same energy-replenishing effect. In no time, they are back to their feet, and they try another round with their partners.

Arion approaches Vladimir, and gently, the man takes his hand and leads him to the beat of the music. Yes, they have music because Skie cast a simple enchantment on a box so that it could play the music of the song they needed whenever she opened it.

"You actually are quite adept at this," Vladimir comments as he spins Arion around.

"Thank you," Arion gently smiles as he gracefully lands in Vladimir's arms and they resume dancing.

(COMMERCIAL BREAK: I AM SO FREAKING SORRRY VICTOR OMG I SWEAR I'LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU AND THE KYOTEN FANS HAHAH [GAHSH WHERE DID ALL THE KYOTEN GO!? XD])

BACK TO THE SHOW/STORY:

As they carefully move around the ballroom, occasionally bumping into some people, Victor can't help but look at the two of them.

'I hope my brother is fine,' he thinks to himself. No he isn't secretly jealous deep inside, no, he isn't trying to make his dancing super cool so that he won't miss a chance like this next time, no, he isn't looking at how Arion's freaking sexy curves are all over the place every time he whirls by. He just wants to become Holy Emperor and get his brother's legs back. And free people. Yeah, he's a very noble idiot. A very noble, horny, way too generous when not needed, partially insecure, and a hopelessly dirty old man who gets easily attracted like a magnet to cute, tan boys.

Victor shakes his head to get rid of the ridiculous thoughts; it's probably for the best. They continue to dance until the rhythm is finally perfect, and they do look like professionals.

As they take another break, Vladimir strikes up a conversation.

"It's a good thing we were able to do things according to plan."

"Really!? But-how? We aren't really dancers, are we?" Arion whispers the last part but Vladimir pulls out a folded piece of parchment from his pocket. On it, the angel reads the words "San de Salvatorre: Solo A La Fantastique".

Below it, words of the group's specialty and contact people or places were written.

"I asked some of my trusted men to spread it, and to make sure that Lord Wunderbar would find out about our 'group' and get interested. I also made sure that they emphasized our impeccably outstanding reputation as entertainers who are rising stars and who are bringing about a fresh perspective, and that we were fans of Lord Wunderbar's magic."

"So the letter is real?" Arion asks in disbelief. When Vladimir nods, the Seraph's cheeks go red. He's actually kind of embarrassed for thinking that his companions were crooks right away.

Riccardo claps his hands twice, getting the attention of the others.

"I think we are ready. Now all we have left for the next two days is the polishing, and we also have the matter of the outfits."

"I've got that covered," Skie reports. "I went to a tailor shop earlier with the girls. They said that we just have to give them the measurements before sundown. I'll be back with the measuring tape. Just stay there." Skie calls out before disappearing.

"It's kind of hard to believe that they found a shop who'd be willing to make costumes in three days," Adé wonders out loud, but Eugene only shakes his head.

"They're probably just going to rent us something already premade," the bookworm says as he pushes his glasses up his nose.

True to her word, Skie comes around holding a roll of measuring tape in her hand. Then, she begins sizing up the girls, followed by Arion, and all the males after. Jade takes Skie's measurements, and after they've all been taken down, Skie hands it over to J.P so that he could bring it to the tailor shop. One of the servants approaches Victor, telling him that it's dinner time, and the guests respectfully oblige.

Upon their descent to the banquet hall, they see Lord Wunderbar, Lady Celia, and another small boy with grayish-blue hair already seated there.

"Ah! Glad you could make it in time," the bear exclaims, motioning for them to take a seat.

After they all do, the master of the table speaks again.

"We have another guest joining us today. His name is Harry Dark, and he is my apprentice."

As the words are spoken, the boy gives a nervous smile but waves anyway. Arion smiles his warmest smile, and he is the first one to rise and approach the boy who is also around his age.

"I'm Ari-I mean, Aaron Sheldin," he immediately corrects himself as he shakes the other's hand.

"N-nice to meet you!" The reply still sounds a bit tense, but nonetheless, Arion's pretty sure that he was able to comfort the guy some. The others also introduce themselves, and while they do so, J.P finally returns and takes a seat. The apprentice looks more relaxed now.

They have their meals, which now seem more like French or whatever European cuisine it is (as long as it sounds fancy and doesn't really contain rice, the angel is sure that it's Western.). Its only now he regrets not paying more attention during his livelihood education subjects about foreign table manners.

He tries to sneak a glance at Victor, but he ends up mesmerized at how skilled the man picks the correct utensils from the plethora of silverware so duly presented and uses it with much grace. Arion watches how the blade (no pun intended) slices through the thick steak and the henchman cuts a small piece of meat, slipping it in his mouth and skewering some of his carrots and broccoli as well. That godforsaken mouth is attracting too much of Arion's attention, and it makes him wonder what else Victor could fit in the angel's favorite orifice.

"So, care to give me a little background about your performance?"

"It's an original dance with the waltz and a rumba incorporated into it," Victor readily answers.

"From what I've heard, your unique style of dancing features a story in your performance. What is this dance all about?"

"It's actually about a bird. It was far more beautiful than the others, for it had a different shade for its plumage. It was regarded as the highest of all birds, not only for its unique color but for its power as well. Many animals envied it. The bird loved to play with humans, helping them and singing for them-it brought happiness to the people. However, because that one bird was one of a kind, it became valuable in the market for its magical properties, and it was forced to hide and protect itself. Men have always wanted to capture the bird, or to see it with their own eyes.

"One day, a man found the bird, which got caught in a hunter's trap and hurt its wing. The man, who loved birds all his life, carefully treated the wound, unknowing that the bird he had was very valuable. At first, the bird tries to escape, but it couldn't, for its wing still couldn't help it fly. The man, moved by pity upon seeing the bird's longing for freedom, decided to help it. He cared for it, nursed it, and brought it out all the time just to watch it. He even tried to make wings and fly with it. Because of his compassion, the bird slowly learned to trust men once more.

"It was finally able to fly, and it was so happy. It flew away, thanking the man before it left. But one day, the man got attacked by a bear. He was able to escape, but was terribly wounded. The bird was flying around that day, enjoying its newfound freedom before it would go back into hiding, but it spotted the man who was at the brink of death. It remembered everything the man had done for it, so it rushed to his aid without a second thought. Then, it sang-it sang its beautiful song which no man had ever heard. A song which was only used to heal people.

"The man was healed. But in exchange, the bird was terribly weakened. Troops came in, finding the bird laying beside the nearly unconscious man. Both were too weak to fight back, but the bird was captured. The men planned to use the bird's powers for evil and selfish things, for it could also make mortals rich. They caged the bird, and they slashed its other wing so that it wouldn't fly. However, the man arrived, trying to save it, but they use him as hostage to make the bird sing. Sadly, the bird agreed, for it had learned to love the man for his kindness. Just then, the man knew what it had to do. He threw his dagger, slashing the bird's other wing. Its blood dripped on its plumage, and its power began to leak out. A bright flash of light burst from the bird, and all the men around the two fell unconscious.

"The man scrambled to his feet, rushing to the seemingly lifeless bird. He held it in his arms, and he wept for it, but suddenly, another light started to flow around it. It began to pulse faintly, then brightly, and a thousand white birds descended upon them. When the flock was gone, leaving only shed feathers around them, he was surprised not to find the bird anymore. Instead, he saw a beautiful human in his arms. Overjoyed, they share a passionate kiss. And they live together for the rest of their days, singing songs and bringing happiness to the people. The end."

"A splendid narration, Lord Victor. You are truly a creative lot."

No more words are exchanged for the rest of the meal.

When it's time for bed, the three of them walk in silence to their chambers, with Arion in between the two brothers. And things just kind of go down Awkward Avenue when they decide who sleeps where.

"I requested for a separate mattress, pillows, and a duvet," says Vladimir, pointing to the things piled in a corner of the room. "Now, you and Arion can share the bed. It's kind of crammed for the three of us, right? And don't worry about my legs." He adds at the end, and Victor stiffens before nodding. Arion just turns into a freaking tomato. Sharing with Victor. The last time that happened, things didn't end up as clean as they were the first time.

"I'm going to check up on the others and have a little chat with Wunderbar about the supposed Celestial Sentinel. Make sure you're both asleep when I get back," the man instructs Victor before leaving.

"I'm going to take a shower first," says Victor when his brother leaves, and the vampire has already thrown his shirt off his head and is showing off the nice line down his back. Arion gulps. Can't he be more secretive about his body or something?

"What's the matter? You've already seen it anyway."

The reply comes with a taunting smirk, and Arion becomes angry and turned on at the same time. So the Seraph is left to sit and wait for an agonizingly long 20 minutes while listening to the sounds of the shower taking away what was left of his innocence.

(~*~)

The foggy reflection of Vladimir making his way through the halls of the mansion is projected on the glass.

"He's going to ask you about that man," a woman speaks, but the crystal ball-gazer only laughs.

"Of course I know, Celia. Please call for Harry."

"Right away."

"They think they have a plan. But they're only playing right into my hands," the voice whispers before fixing its coattails and leaving the chamber to greet the knock on the door.

~*~ The morning before the Grand Gala de Masquerade

After breakfast, Skie immediately calls for a meeting. Arion groans, because his morning didn't start out right. First, he wakes up to a boner again (thankfully he was able to run to the bathroom before his seed exploded everywhere.). After taking a shower, his towel fell off in front of Victor. What could get worse?

When everyone is finally settled at the gazebo, Skie arrives last, carrying a large chest with the assistance of Roma.

"This is weird, but the costumes really are done. And they were still able to do the designs Rosie sketched for them," Skie says and heaves a heavy breath.

She brings out all of the outfits, handing them over to each person. Some are delighted, some are still annoyed at the dancing, and others are really just fine with it.

"It looks ridiculous," Victor mutters as he surveys the well-done outfit. It consists of a coat, with elaborate embellishments of gold and silver on the midnight blue and black gradient, and a stunning mask. He aligns it on his face, testing the strange contraption as to how it might restrict his movements.

"It brings out your eyes."

Victor turns to see Arion staring at him, thumbs fiddling with each other while he looks away. "You look different," the angel adds before walking away.

Well, not really different, the angel thinks to himself as he starts mingling with the other guys who are lamenting their outfits. The man looks exactly like he did the first time they met-enigmatic yet enchanting, willing Arion to follow him everywhere like an ant to sugar pie.

"Arion," Skie approaches him, a bit uneasy. "There's a problem with your costume."

The boy tilts his head to the side, his expression awry when his unusually calm demeanor prompts the nurse to continue.

"I received it when I went to the shop. However, as we were riding in the carriage, the horse suddenly went berserk, and the chest toppled over, opening up unexpectedly, and your dress fell out and into a muddy puddle. I asked if they could clean it, but they said that it would take three days. The ball's tomorrow-what do we do!?"

At this point, the whole group turn their heads to the distressed girl. When she fills them in on the details, they all go quiet and disappear deep in thought.

Opposed to what he thought would be his initial reaction, Arion is worried. They could just say that he suddenly got sick. But what about their plan? Arion is supposed to be the main character in the story-the bird! None of the other girls could possibly learn the dance in one day-it would ruin the sync of everything!

All of them are worried. But they know that they have to do something.

"I will go with Gabriel to the costume shop later at noon. For now, we have to practice our routines. We will find a way," Riccardo reassures the rest, and they all nod.

Later, at noon, Arion and the others are free to do their own things. Captain is obviously looking for a solution, so the best thing he could contribute is to practice.

He wanders around the halls of the mansion. Then, he feels as if he's been wandering around for an hour, like he's quite lost. He makes a few more turns, and he sees a huge wooden door. Hoping to see someone, he pushes it open.

He finds himself in a room. The floor is made entirely of smooth wood, and a huge window is on his right, with a piano far in the corner. The left side wall is completely covered with a mirror and beams.

"It's probably a ballet room..." Arion says out loud. He figures that ballet must be a common pastime for girls, because the people seem oddly into dancing, theatrical arts, and singing. If that would be so, then it would explain why his companions chose the guise of a theatrical arts group, and also why Lord Wunderbar always throws these types of parties (based on what he heard from the maids).

He walks to the center. He feels oddly alone, yet in peace. Then, he takes a small box out of his pocket. Skie gave him one so that he could practice when he needed to. He opens it, and the music plays softly-just enough for him to dance. As he moves to the beat, he slowly closes his eyes and programs himself to be not Arion Sherwind, but the bird. He imagines himself free and happy, then betrayed and fearful. He imagines himself hurt and wary upon seeing the man, then slowly accepting his presence. He imagines his joy and gratitude, then distress and aching desire to save the man.

As he twirls around gracefully, he stops the moment the music stops playing. It's the end of the third part, where he finally gets captured by the evil men.

"So you have mastered your part."

Arion turns around in shock, only to see Victor standing at the doorway. Why isn't the angel surprised?

"I found a solution."

The henchman proposes, moving closer to the dancer. He pulls his hands from his back to reveal a box. Arion unlatches it, and he gasps when he pulls out the content.

A beautiful white dress that seemed to glitter in the sunlight is in his hands. It is just the perfect length, and true to his role, it has feathers with just a faint tinge of blue positioned on the shoulders, the arms, and other parts of the dress, lined and dusted with a golden glow. Beautiful crystal and silk lace adorn the sides and the skirt part. A mask is also with it, made of white as well, and covered with feathers and gold and crystals, with one part elongated as if to imitate a beak. The back part of the dress is exposed, but so far, it's the only thing he isn't exactly comfortable about showing off.

"Try it on."

Arion looks back at Victor, still at a loss of words from the beautiful garment.

"How-where did you get this?"

"My mother made it. It was supposed to be a dress for an operatic singer, but the lady claimed that it was so beautiful that she couldn't wear it. My mother kept it in storage, telling Vladimir to present it as his wife-to-be when the time came. Of course, it never happened, and since our parents passed away, this was one of the only things from her that he wanted to keep. He insisted that we bring it along, because he had a dream that we'd need it...now he says that it was made for you to wear."

Arion gasps in surprise, about to drop the dress as he holds it out.

"I can't wear this! I-its too precious to both of you, and I don't think I can do it..."

"You don't have a choice."

"But-"

Without another word, Victor takes the dress-gently, this time-and he snakes his arms around Arion's waist, pulling off the belt.

"Victor! S-stop it!" It's only now that the brunette pushes him away, but the henchman silences him all with one look. Arion holds his breath in as the coat comes off too.

"You don't need to watch. Close your eyes if you want," he whispers, almost soothing, almost as if Arion has a choice again, and the boy gratefully accepts the offer as he feels the buttons popping off one by one. He knows that even if he could undress himself, he wouldn't be able to do it with the other man around. Instead, he does the only thing he could do as he steps out of his shoes.

The air, moist and warm like that of a secret room, hits his back once his upper body is devoid of any clothing. Victor's hands settle on the boy's hips, and Arion flinches at the gentle touch.

"Still okay?" Victor whispers. Arion nods with eyes still shut; it's scary how the man could be so harsh and cold at times, but warm and chivalrous in a split second.

Victor then proceeds to unhooking the pants and letting them fall to the floor-an action the boy is becoming more and more used to with the passing days. The henchman coaxes the Seraph to step into the dress, and when the arms are put in the sleeves and the dress is zipped up fully, the angel could feel his captor kneel down and take the brunette's socks off. Not a thing is out of place. Every space fit perfectly into his body, like a mould made especially for Arion. Victor then brushes some hair out of the other's face before tying the mask on and spinning him gently.

"You can look now," he says, and Arion's eyes take a peep at the reflection only to gasp.

"You look...beautiful..." Victor is quite hesitant to say those words, and hearing them makes Arion's chest tighten.

It's as if he cannot recognize the person staring back at him. Arion just looks at his reflection, and his knees begin to shake, fingers trembling and toes curling as he grips on his chest.

"I'm beautiful?..." He says, and when Victor nods a little, the angel bursts into tears, surprising the henchman. The man tries to touch him, but Arion pushes him away.

"Have I offended you? I speak only the truth-" Victor begins, but the brunette lashes out.

"NO! How could you say that?! That person-it's not me! I'm not-I'm not-"

Arion begins to stutter and stumble, weeping for an unknown reason as he tries so hard to keep his feelings from pouring out.

"...I'm not beautiful..." he whispers as he looks away, ashamed.

Victor doesn't know what to do. They both stay in their places, the man standing and the boy sprawled on the floor. It only shakes up the man because what he thought to be a straight-forward male such as himself is just getting more complicated each day. And he loved it.

He approaches the crying mess, and he grasps on Arion's shoulders. The Seraph turns around and retreats, shaking his head vigorously but Victor pulls him by the wrists until their faces are so close and grey eyes with a sliver of blue are all he could see.

"Shh..." He breathes against Arion's lips, almost but not quite kissing him, and the boy struggles to pull away.

"I'm not! It's just the dress. Don't make me believe in a lie-"

"-then don't make me feel this way." Victor finishes the conversation with the words that leave his lips.

It's the truth; his attraction to Arion is getting too hard to handle. He thought it would be simply lust, a carnal desire. But he doesn't know why this boy is nothing like he's ever seen in an entire century.

Then he closes the space between him and the boy, rising to his feet. Arion is too dazed to even think about what he's doing, until soft music plays and Victor leads him to the center of the floor. And he takes Arion's hands in his, leading him to the beat of the music. At first, they're so sloppy, but before he knows it they're dancing, and he feels strange yet so right as he spins around and falls into Victor's arms. Then he presses his back close to the other's chest, swaying with him intimately.

As he faces Victor again, he latches his leg on the man's hip and the henchman grabs it, dipping Arion whilst moving his hands along the skin, close to the groin but not quite as he slides it down to the boy's backside to give it a little squeeze. Arion gasps and scrunches Victor's shirt in his hands before deciding to run it down the henchman's abdomen and brushing it against his crotch. And all caution regarding rule number two is thrown to the wind, because it wasn't just an accidental one. Victor groans before drawing his partner up and spinning him again, pulling Arion against him as he holds the boy on his waist.

"Dirty dancing are we?" He says with a hint of seduction as he turns Arion towards him before lifting the other high into the air. This is the part where the bird is supposed to try flying, but fails slightly because it still isn't strong enough to fly. With support from those strong hands, Arion drops on the ground only to have Victor pull him up and tip him backwards.

As the boy arches back further, Victor can see how the shear on his arms and chest (as well as the plunging neckline) revealed too much of that skin, in a sexy but not a vulgar way. He touches Arion's bare back, greedy and needy, but Arion only encourages him further by running his hand up his thigh, flipping the skirt and tugging at the fabric on his torso just to torture his captor. Victor scowls and smirks maliciously; it's working on him, he thinks to himself as he could feel his lower regions reacting like crazy again.

So he gives in to both of their desires as he slams Arion flat against the huge window, growling and restraining himself from doing the one thing that would make him human. No, he refuses to taint those virgin lips, so he bites his tongue enough to draw out blood while tearing off the mask to see his lovely angel's face. Arion however, is impatient, characterized by his feverish panting as he began to sweat.

"Victor!" He pleads, in the same tone as back then when he was on the verge of that delicious release, and Arion's control snaps in two as he grabs his own need to finish himself off. Yes, it's so mortifying on Arion's manly pride, but he could care less right now if strangers and Victor could see him jack off if it meant getting rid of this awful erection that he never got used to. He rubs his organ up and down, cheeks turning red as he sees Victor watching him with hungry eyes and tongue licking his lips. Then, a strong force yanks on his arm, pinning it above his head along with the other one as Victor rubs it instead. Arion gasps even louder, sighing in content as the pleasure hits him again and again.

"The dress-it's going to get dirty too-" Arion suddenly interjects despite the pleasure rendering his speech useless, but his partner is way ahead of him as the zipper is pulled all the way down and Victor strips the dress off easily. The underwear also falls to a pile at his feet, before Arion unconsciously spreads his legs a little bit wider.

"Naughty whore," the henchman comments as he squeezes the organ gently to elicit a moan. It's too hot for the angel to bear much longer. Arion could hardly contain himself, and his moaning just gets more needy to the point that his saliva just trickles from the corner of his mouth, and he doesn't have time to warn or react towards Victor when something warm encloses his member.

At this, the angel's hips buck forward and release right into the henchman's mouth. Arion moans long and hard, slowly feeling relief as his pent up pleasure and frustration is all emptied. Victor merely slides off and swallows the white substance, making Arion stare at him in shock and embarrassment.

"One of Lord Wunderbar's young ballerina guests might shriek if she saw your semen in this ballet room," he explains with a satisfied expression as he wipes away remaining traces of cum on his face.

Arion just looks away, and coming to his senses he just realizes how awfully shattered his virginity is. If anyone else's juice got inside him, he'd definitely laugh the next time someone called him the "purest of all angels". Well, at least he's still human enough to do all this crazy shit and not a weird creature. Yet.

He puts his underwear back on, dressing hurriedly while Victor packs away the costume before they play naughty games with it. Then, they exit the ballet room, leaving no trace of their affairs.

~*~ the day of the Grand Gala de Masquerade

Arion looks at himself in the mirror as the sun sets behind the window. He affixes his mask, letting only his huge, kind eyes reveal a little of his identity. Someone knocks at the door.

"Come in," Arion calls out, and a man with a fancy dark green coat and all those fancy cuffs and buttons and whatnots enter, wearing a mask as well. Once he sees Arion, who stands up to receive him properly, he gasps and smiles, taking his mask off to get a better look.

"My brother tells the truth," he says as he puts his hands on Arion's shoulders. "And my dream didn't fail me either. It's as if it was made for you."

"Thank you." Arion replies with a smile. "Can we go over the plan one more time, please?"

"Okay, okay," Vladimir laughs, knowing that his partner is just nervous. "During the part where the men start coming in and the bird goes into hiding while the animals are scuffling around, the girls and the others will scatter into the crowd. Their positions will vary depending on where the Celestial Sentinel will be, and either Aitor or Jade will have to be near enough to grab it. If that doesn't work, then Rosie will invite the guard to dance with her, and when she dances by Rick or Gabriel, they will be the ones to get it."

Arion nods, and he follows Vladimir downstairs to the ballroom. When they get there, some guests are already laughing and talking, and the ambience is light as the musicians continue to play.

"There we are! The last two members of our honorable guests-the San de Salvatorre!" The guests who heard Lord Wunderbar's announcement stand up and clap to greet them. Arion gulps nervously, but Vladimir just pats him on the back.

The guests gradually come one after another, but none of their fancy costumes catch Arion's attention. That is, until he sees a masked persona with hair colored mint green enter the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Deity Fey Rune!"

As if on cue, all members of the San de Salvatorre exchange looks even if they're scattered throughout the hall.

"Excuse me," Arion strikes up a conversation with a nearby lady, "why the title deity?"

"You do not know? Oh heavens me, children nowadays! He is called such because he is from the line of the Golden Shrine Maiden, who was protector of this land since time and memorial. He is said to protect one of the Deus Relics-a very powerful artifact that protects the people of Galaxia."

"So it is him," Arion thinks after he thanks the lady and walks off to the drinks table.

Then, the familiar sound of castanets resonates through the air.

"Thank you all for attending the Grand Gala de Masquerade. Now to start things off, we have a special guest performing here tonight."

Well, there is his cue. He steps up to the dance floor, but all the confidence is lost when he doesn't see Vladimir around. He looks at Rick nearby, and the leader leans over to whisper in his ear.

"I was with him and Victor until he suddenly said he felt sick. Then, he started to sweat and his whole body got paralyzed. He fell asleep-we assume that someone poisons his tea with Paralysia Poppies, which could be found around the walkways outside. We just have to improvise."

Arion is rattled, and he looks around frantically. Lord Wunderbar is almost done with his introduction, and it's just him in the spotlight. Then, a quite noisy scuffling issues from his right. He turns, and he almost squeaks in relief and even more confusion when he bumps into someone and his hands are taken into the dance position.

"My brother says I don't have a choice."

A/N: WHAHAHAHAH HOW WAS ITTT? Up next: VICTOR DANCING BECAUSE I LOVE HIM. Thanks so much to all my viewers and supporters! you always make me feel loved. Please leave a review! Thanks :))


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